Alone Together
by TheRavenAndBear
Summary: (in the process of being rewritten as of 2020) The Pevensies have fallen on hard times. Something happened and it's tearing them apart. Peter blames himself for what happened. Can Narnia's High King find a way to cope, or will it become too much? Will the arrival of some men change things? If so, for better or worse? (Set a few years after LWW. Peter is about 20 years old or so.)
1. To Rule

Peter sat quietly in his study. It seemed that he never had a free moment to spare anymore. He worked day and night, always shifting through various documents and petitions or complaints, trying to sort out the various problems his subjects had. It didn't seem like work, however. Work was something you were involved in to earn money- like a job or something of the sort. But this wasn't all Peter's job. He was stepping up, which was why he was suddenly so busy all the time. It wasn't permanent - at least, that's what he told himself, though it wasn't likely true.

"Peter," The High King turned his head to look up at his sister Susan as she entered the room.

"Hello, Su." He replied dully before turning back to his documents.

"Peter, you can't keep doing this." Susan seemed to glide across the room, her dress brushing lightly on the ground, before she stopped behind Peter and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Peter sighed. "I've got to, Su, it's my duty."

"It wasn't always your duty. You used to have time for us."

"I used to, now I don't. I can't just take time off. Narnia needs me." Peter replied, signing his name to yet another document.

"Yes, Peter, Narnia needs you, which is why you need to get away from this desk for a little while before you drive yourself mad." Susan rubbed his back a little to indicate that her words meant well.

Peter dropped his pen on the desk and buried his head in his hands. "Sometimes I wonder if it's too late for that. I mean, perhaps I've already gone mad."

"That's nonsense, Peter. You know that."

"Is it?" Peter looked up into Susan's eyes. "I used to be a strong and respected king. 'High King Peter, The Magnificent,' - that's how I was known. Enemies used to quiver at the mere mention of my name - of any of our names, yours, mine, Lucy's... Ed's. Now? Now I'm none of those things. I feel as though I've withered away."

"Oh, Peter, that's not true. Aslan knows it's been hard for all of us, but we must keep fighting. We must keep our strength, and you can't do that if you're half starved and sleep deprived."

"I can't sleep, Susan. Every time I close my eyes I have nightmares. I see him. I can't do it." Peter once again buried his head in his hands.

"You can't keep blaming yourself. There was nothing you could do."

"I know, I know. Why would Aslan let that happen?"

"I don't know, Peter, but He must have known what He was doing."

"How? How can this be part of His plan? It's been nearly a year now and everything has been miserable. Don't you miss hearing Lucy laugh? She's never happy anymore, none of us are. How can that be part of Aslan's plan?" Peter ranted. He could feel a lump rising in his throat, but was able to keep the tears at bay.

"I don't know, Peter! But we can't lose faith. That's what the enemy wants."

"I can't bring myself to care anymore. At least then the enemy would be able to put us out of our misery!" Peter stood suddenly, almost making Susan jump.

"This isn't about you!" Susan argued. "This is about Narnia! Maybe you can get out of your head long enough to realize that you have a kingdom to rule and a family to lead!"

Peter stood in stunned silence as Susan turned and walked out the door. He sat back down and rested his elbows on his knees, bowing his head low. They say that time mends all things, but so far time hasn't done what is supposed to do.


	2. Broken

Susan lay still in her bed. Every morning she woke she felt happy, like she had forgotten all that happened, like everything was the way it had been just a few months ago... But then it sunk in and she was suddenly filled with the dread that so often sat in her stomach.

The girl never wanted to get out of bed in the morning, but she had a duty to her people. It was bad enough that Peter never left his study - Narnia never saw her king anymore. He was always buried in his work. If Susan let herself fall apart like her older brother, then Narnia would fall apart too. They needed someone to lead them properly, and her siblings were in no shape to do so. The duty fell to Susan, then, and she would not allow herself to fail her people.

The Gentle Queen flung her covers off of her and wiped the tears from her eyes. She quickly dressed herself and left her quarters, bound for the royal dining room where she ate most of her meals alone. It didn'tusedto be that way. All of the Pevensies used to sit and eat all of their meals together. Obviously that has changed, and Susan feared they would never share those moments again.

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

"Sire?" Peter looked up to meet the eyes of the faun who had addressed him.

"Yes, Nephtali?" Peter asked as he cocked one eyebrow.

"Shall I bring your breakfast into your study again?"

Peter furrowed his brow, causing his eyebrows to become visible as they fell below his longer-than-normal bangs. He was in desperate need of a haircut, but every time Susan offered he turned her down.

"It is morning already?"

"Yes, Sire, though it is still early." Nephtali replied, giving a slight nod of his head, causing his light curls to bounce in the process.

Peter sat in contemplative silence for a few moments before giving the faun an answer, "Don't bother bringing breakfast here. I think I'll eat with Susan today."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Nephtali turned on his hoofed heal and left the king's study, giving Peter the privacy needed to change into some proper clothes for the day.

Once he was dressed, Peter made his way through Cair Paravel to head to the royal dining room. It seemed like ages since He last made this trip. He seldom ate anymore, and when he did, it was always in his room or in his study, so it was a welcome sight to come upon the large oak doors that lead to the dining room.

The first thing Peter saw as he entered the room was Susan. His sister was sitting in her normal chair, her back facing the door he had just entered. He walked across the room in a timely, though not quick, manner. Once Peter was standing beside his sister, he spoke for the first time since entering the room. "May I dine with you, dear sister?"

Susan seemed startled by his voice, but she quickly composed herself. "I don't thinkI'mone to tell the High King who he can and cannot eat with." She replied, not once looking up to meet his eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then." Peter said as he pulled his chair from the table and sat in it. Susan continued to to act more interested in her food than in her brother. "I thought about what you said, you know - about being Narnia's king."

"Oh, you did, did you?" The girl asked, though her voice continued to sound uninterested, and she still kept her eyes on her food.

"You were right, Su, I've closed myself off for long enough." Peter gave out an exasperated sigh, and continued, "I've spent my days locked in my study, filling out papers that are supposed to help Narnia, but I've neglected the needs of my siblingsandmy country. You need mehere, as does Narnia."

Susan looked up and, for the first time, met Peter's eyes. "So you'll stop blaming yourself and causing yourself to waste away?"

The king gave a pained look. He wished it was that easy. "It's not that simple, Su. I'vetriedto forgive myself - believe me, I've tried - but I just...can't."

Susan dropped her fork and rested a comforting hand on Peter's arm, which rested on the dark wooden table. "Youknowit wasn't your fault. There was nothing to be done."

"I tell myself thateveryday, but I still don't believe it. I should haveknownsomething was going to happen; I couldfeelit. I should have donesomething. Maybe things would be different, then." Peter downcast his eyes. He could feel that lump rising again. "I don't know howyoucan forgive me if I can't even forgive myself."

"Peter, it waseasyto forgive you because there was nothing to forgive. It was out of your hands. I could never be mad at you about something that would just as easily have happened tome." Susan argued.

"But itdidn'thappen to you. This isn't onyourhead."

"This is oneveryone'shead, Peter. We areallwondering what else we could have done. The difference is thatyouare the High King. We don't love you any less because of it."

"In my heart, I know it's not my fault, but myheadis in control, not my heart. I don't know what to do." Peter shook his head, which he then bowed low, away from Susan.

"None of us know what to do, which is why we need each other more thaneverbefore."

"I know, I just... I feelsoalone." Peter looked up as his sister, finally revealing the tears in his pained blue yes.

Susan looked at him the way someone would look at a wounded puppy - that's how Peter felt right now. "You don'thaveto be alone. You haveus, you haveme. We can be alone together."

Peter smiled sadly at his younger sister. "Thank you, Su. You always know just what to say to lift my spirits."

Susan just smiled back before her face turned to a questioning one. Peter had a feeling he knew what her question was going to be. "Have you visited him lately?"

Peter shook his head. "I haven't been able to bring myself to."

"Perhaps you should, today." Susan suggested. "Would you like me to come?"

"No," Peter answered a little too quickly. Once he noticed the look of confusion on her face he continued, "I need to see him alone - at least for now."

Susan nodded. "I understand."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Once Peter had finished his breakfast, he made his way out of Cair Paravel's walls and, within a few minutes, was right where he knew he needed to be.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

No reply.

"Please don't hold it against me; I really wanted to come. I guess I just thought if I did, it would becomefinal." Peter looked down and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. "I've really missed you, you know. It hasn't been the same."

Still, no reply.

"I hope you're listening, cause it feels like I'm just talking to myself." Peter sighed. "I just wanted to tell you how much we need you. We're falling apart without you."

Peter looked up from his sleeve and looked forward to the large slab of stone before him. The stone was bigger than any of the others around it. Carved into the front were these words:

King Edmund the Just

The world was not big enough for him

So Aslan gave him a new adventure

We miss you dearly, king, brother, friend

But we could never deny Aslan the joy of having you near him.


	3. Something Missing

"The trees never dance anymore." Lucy stated as she rode through the forest where the trees now stood in a dull silence. She missed when they used to dance - at least if theydidit might take her mind off of things. Perhaps then she wouldn't feel so lonely.

"They are grieving."

Lucy rubbed the horse's neck. "Weallare Philip, just... some differently than others." She thought about her oldest brother. Peter spends all of his time in his study, working on the tons of documents thatEdmundused to take care of. Now Peter has twice the workload to carry. Lucy had heard Susan suggestseveraltimes that he hire someone to take over Edmund's share, but the oldest Pevensie had declined every time. He said that he didn't want toreplaceEdmund, but Lucy had a feeling that it was something else. Peter didn't want to accept that Edmund was gone. If he hired someone to do his work, then it would seem like it was final - like he wasreallygone.

Susan grieved in a different way. To those who didn't know her, it would seem as though the Gentle Queen wasn't grieving atall. Susan seemed composed - she carried out her duties as she always did - she was able to smile and laugh as though nothing happened, she was always there to comfort Lucy and help her fall asleep at night. But those who knew her best, knew that Susan was hurting just as much as the rest of them. There was no longer that gleam in her eyes. Her eyes used to sing with joy and pride, like a queen's should, but now?...Now they looked empty, like there's something missing - and thereis.

"We all miss King Edmund. He held a place in the hearts of all those in Narnia." Philip replied.

Lucy said nothing in response, she just breathed in the air around her. Edmund used to take these rides with her. Lucy used to rideherhorse Lynn, but since Edmund... - well, since what happened - Lucy began to ride Philip. Lynn wasn't a talking horse - she didn't have the understanding that Philip had. Of course, Lucy always made sure to visit Lynn every day, and she made sure somebody took her out for a ride, but Philip needed her now and she needed Philip. They understood each other's loss.and Lucy couldn't help but feel closer to him than she did with her siblings. Philip listened.

Lucy never saw Peter anymore, and sure, Susan spent time with her each night, staying up until she fell asleep, but aside from that they never talked anymore. Lucy never got to play or have fun with either PeterorSusan. They both said that they were too busy, but Lucy knew the truth: it was too painful for them. They couldn't bear the thought that Edmund wouldn't be there.

"Lucy!" Lucy snapped her head in the direction she heard the voice come from. She knew immediately who it belonged to and smiled, though her smiles weren't the same anymore - they weren'ttrue.

"Peter, I've missed you."

Peter reined his horse up beside hers and slowed to Philip's pace. "I've been looking all over for you, Lu. I wanted to talk."

"I never expected to see you out of that study. You've barely seen the light of day."

Peter lowered his head. "I know, Lucy, and I'm sorry. I'm taking the day off to spend time with you and Susan. I've made all the arrangements."

"That's really sweet Peter, but are you absolutely certain you should do that?"

"I know this won't change anything, but I think we've spent enough time grieving what was taken from us and not enjoying what we still have. Ed isn't here anymore - I've been trying so hard to hold onto him and, in the process, I've ignoredyou."

"Peter?" Lucy asked after a moment or two of silence. When Peter met her eyes she continued. "That's not all, is it?"

"What's not all?"

"You're not just trying to hold onto him because you miss him. There's another reason, isn't there? There's something keeping you from closure."

Peter sighed. "This hasn't been easy, Lu, we all know that, but you're right. Thereissomething else. I feel guilty, like I owe him something."

"What could you possibly owe him?" Lucy questioned, when her brother didn't continue on his own.

"Ed and I had a fight before he left." Peter finally admitted.

"A fight? How bad was it?What was it about?"

"It wasn'tthatbad." Peter admitted as he continued. "Ed had left Cair Paravel without guard and ventured into the unknown part of the woods. I was more worried than anything, but I showed it through anger." Peter cleared his throat before continuing. "We argued for some time before he left the room. I never got the chance to apologize before... well, before he left."

"Oh, Peter," The girl's heart went out to her brother. "You can't go on believing that he was upset with you for long. I reckon he forgot about the whole thing as soon as he left Cair Paravel." Lucy tried to comfort, but the look on Peter's face remained unchanged.

"That's not it, Lu." The king's eyes avoided contact with his sister's. "The last memory I have of Ed is the two of us fighting. I don't want that. I should have let him adventure if he wanted - that was what made him happy. I shouldn't have held him back. Now Ed is gone, and all I can think of is how the last moments we spent together were spent with angry words. Edmund loved the outdoors and I was wrong to keep him confined. He could take care of himself. I was being selfish, I suppose." Peter took a deep breath, then continued. "We fought fairly often - as much as one might expect of siblings - but that's how we said goodbye. If I'd known that was the last I was going to see him, it would have gone differently. I would have shown him how Ireallyfelt... but I never got that chance, and now mylastmemory of him has tainted all of the rest - all of thegoodones. I can't think of him without feeling like I've failed him."

"Peter, I know you didn't fail him and I know he knows too. You were trying to keep him safe, and we all know that Edmund never liked to feel like he was being babysat. You wouldn't even remember the argument if he had come back."

Peter looked sadly at his youngest sister. "That's what this is about, though, isn't it? Ed never came back - at least, not the way we expectedorwanted."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by the voice of Nephtali shouting, "High King Peter!"

Lucy and Peter both turned to face the faun. "Yes, Nephtali?" Peter asked.

The faun took a moment to gather his breath. Lucy couldn't imagine how tired he must be after the run he'd just had. "Queen Susan requests your presence. She says it's urgent."


	4. Judas

**This is to answer one of my guest readers: I would not leave this story to punish you guys; I just get discouraged when I'm not getting feedback. It's not because I want to, but I run out of inspiration. It's kind of like a writer's block.**

Peter strode through the tall doors to the throne room with Lucy quickly on his heals. Opposite of where he stood was Susan, talking to Oreius before the thrones. She looked over to where he stood and gestured for him to come closer. Within a dozen strides he was standing beside Susan and Oreius.

"You wanted to see me?"

Susan nodded, "Oreius came to me with news from the Calormene Tisroc, Judas." She turned back to Oreius, "Why don't you tell Peter what you told me?"

Oreius nodded respectively, then faced Peter, "King Judas sent a message for the king and queens of Narnia. I read it to Queen Susan, but I think it would be faster for me to explain the contents to you rather than read them."

"Well, then, explain." Peter gestured for him to continue.

"His majesty, King Judas, has recently set out from his kingdom, bound for Cair Paravel. He explains his reasons as being concerned for your health. He says he would like to visit and meet with you; perhaps offer his hand in helping with the welfare of Narnia." Oreius explained.

"But," Susan began, "We don't believe those are his true intentions."

Peter nodded, "I can't imagine it would be. We all know that Judas has never been fond of us. He thinks we are too oppressive to the Calormenes, he wants us to change our laws concerning foreigners. Odds are he's heard of the state our kingdom has been in since the loss of king Edmund. If he sees us as weak as the rumors say, nothing will stop him from attacking Narnia."

Oreius stomped his hooves, "I shall send a party immediately and demand he turn around. I shall even go myself, if His Majesty permits it."

"That won't be necessary, Oreius. Don't send the party at all."

Susan knit her eyebrows together, "Peter, what are you talking about?"

"It's simple, really." Peter shrugged, "We let them come and see for themselves that we are _not_ weak. I will meet with King Judas myself and he shall see for himself that I am doing fine."

"But perhaps he really _does_ want to help. Everybody knows that it was _his_ people that were responsible. Perhaps he wants to make up for it." Susan reasoned.

"Judas never laid claim to it. There was no clear proof, and we both know that Judas won't take responsibility if he doesn't have to." Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Judas is a vile man. He doesn't _want_ to be our ally, but he knows we're stronger than him and he doesn't want to risk an attack he knows he won't win. I have no doubt he would readily break our treaty if he knew he could defeat us in battle."

Susan nodded her understanding, "Of course. I've never met him personally, but I've heard stories."

"I don't want King Judas to come here." A quiet Lucy spoke for the first time from behind Peter. Oreius took this as his cue to leave. He didn't want to become too involved in their personal affairs.

Peter moved aside to let Lucy into their little circle, "I know, Lu, but it's for the good of Narnia."

"And Edmund leaving? That was supposed to be for the good of Narnia, but look what happened."

"This is different. King Judas will be no danger to us. There are guards everywhere - in fact, I plan to double guard while he is here." Peter bent down a ways to reach her level.

"King Judas is not a good man - he never has been. Why would we want him here?"

"We don't, Lu, and he's _not_ a good man, but that's why we need him to come here. I'll make sure he is never alone for too long."

Lucy shook her head, " _Why_ do we need him here? I think you should stay _away_ from that man."

"You know, they say to keep your friends close, but to keep your enemies closer. If Judas is _here_ and in _sight_ then he won't be causing trouble. If he sees how we can hold ourselves together, he'll be intimidated because he'll see that _nothing_ can break us down." Peter smiled, but Lucy didn't smile back

"But that's not true. We _all_ know that's not true, Peter. Ever since what happened, we've been able to do nothing, but grow further apart. Are we supposed to change that in the blink of an eye?"

Peter shook his head, "This pain we have in our hearts, Lu- it won't go away; at least not for a while. For some of us, it might _never_ go away, but if we continue to let it eat at us the way we have been; Narnia will fall apart. We don't have to forget Ed, but we _do_ have to be strong - for Narnia _and_ for him."

Lucy's eyes filled with tears, "Edmund would want us to be strong."

Peter nodded, "He would. And we all know how Ed hated to be disappointed _and_ to see _us_ disappointed. Remember what he said when Mr. Beaver's dam broke, flooding water into the forest. With all of those complaints we were up to ears in work. You never got to play since none of us had time."

Lucy smiled, tears still gleaming in her eyes, "'You lot look more upset than Mr. Beaver when he came home wet from river water and found out he missed dinner.' - I remember it all too well. I miss him _so_ much."

Peter pulled her into a hug, "We all miss him, Lu, but we'll make it. I promise."


	5. Arrival

**So I know I've been a little all over the place with my chapters. It might seem like I've been bringing up new problems in each chapter, but I've been trying to make a point. Each of the Pevensies has their own way of grieving and their own things they are trying to cope with. While Susan had talked with Peter about his problems, they weren't fixed or mended, by any means. Peter realized how his grief was ruining him, so he decided to push himself out there, but they all have things to overcome. I hope I'm not making this all too hard to follow. Thank you for your patience with me.**

It was another three days before any word of King Judas's reached Peter's ears, and when it did it was because Judas was standing on his doorstep - not literally, but his whole company was just outside of Cair Paravel. Oreius had come to advise him of the arrival of his 'guests' and Peter entered the throne room. Susan and Lucy were already there and stood once they noticed his presence - it was the custom when the High King entered the room - both wore an ornate crown upon their head - Peter was the only of his siblings who wore his crown at _all_ hours of the day. It wasn't all that comfortable, but he believed in showing respect to his title. Aslan had given him his role as king, and Peter always worked hard to live up to it.

Peter gave a half-hearted smile to his sisters as he made his way to his own throne. Once he stood directly in front of it he turned around to face the rest of the room. Peter took a small glance to his right and noted the empty throne. His heart sank - this would be the first time they were all seated in the throne room together since the loss of Edmund. Peter's heart ached and he looked back to his sisters. They both looked sadly at him and, for the first time, Peter noticed the sullen look on his _own_ face. He quickly composed himself - he took on a stoic look and nodded to both Susan and Lucy. His sisters followed suit and pushed the emotion from their eyes. Peter could still see it, deep down inside - the same pain he felt inside his heart and showed in his eyes - but to any who didn't know them, they looked as composed as ever.

Peter looked to the guards at the front doors. He was sure Oreius had shown Judas to the door by now, so he let his voice ring through the room in one simple command, "Open the doors."

The two armored centaurs grabbed the handles and pulled open the large, grand doors. Peter stared on with cold eyes as he recognized the king that walked into the throne room. Judas strode in with his _own_ guards, an advisor to his left and a boy - approximately Peter's own age - to his right. Peter assumed the boy to be Judas's heir - his son. Another thing Peter couldn't help but notice were several of the other people walking in, as well. They were dressed in fairly clean clothes that were all similar in design with large hoods to keep their faces concealed. Peter mentally shuddered. He knew exactly what they were. _Slaves_.

It was one of the reasons Peter and Judas didn't get along. Judas was adamant in his idea that slaves were nothing more than creatures that were designed to follow his every order. Peter, however, believed that slaves were _real_ people - innocents that had lives of their own that they were taken from - families that missed their presence, every day. It broke his heart to see the hopeless look in the eyes of a slave - which is why he was partially relieved that he couldn't _see_ these slaves eyes, for they were shadowed over by the hood of the cloak. Peter guessed that was why they had to wear them.

"High King Peter," Judas hailed, taking a deep and - Peter couldn't help but notice - slightly exaggerated bow. His subjects followed suit, "How delightful it is to be in your presence, once again."

"Considering how our _last_ encounter went, I'm surprised to hear how 'delighted' you are." Peter replied bluntly. He knew how Judas liked to ignore problems of the past when they might interfere with his plans for the future.

"Ah... yes," Judas stuttered slightly, "well, let's let by-gones be by-gones." The king smiled expectantly at Peter.

Peter just sighed and began to pace the small area in front of his throne, "As _I_ recall, you tried to make it out of my royal dining room with half of my silver spoons _and_ my gold goblet."

"A simple mistake, really." Judas tried to reason.

"And _that's_ why they were hidden under your robe? They _accidentally_ got there?" Peter smirked. He knew he had Judas there, because the man scowled and wrinkled his nose in frustration

"Well, I've changed since then."

Peter cleared his throat and spoke quietly, so that only Susan was close enough to hear him, "You always have."

Susan smiled and Judas gave a confused look to both king and queen before speaking, "Beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I believe we have some business to discuss."

"And what business would that be?"

Judas scoffed, "I included it in my letter. I was concerned about your health and thought I might be of services to you."

"Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly healthy. My kingdom is operating just as it should _and_ everything seems to be running smoothly. I don't think we are in need of your services." Peter explained.

"I... was _hoping_ to be able to talk about this in _private_." Judas gave a slightly irritated look, but Peter ignored it.

"Whatever we have to say can be said in front of our subjects. I keep _no_ secrets from my people."

Judas grumbled something to himself before speaking up, "Fine. I've come all this way to help you. You can at _least_ let me do _something._ "

Peter realized that Judas never sounded the least bit disappointed. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, considering that Judas didn't _really_ want to help, "I have nothing for you to do. I am perfectly capable of running my own kingdom."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I suppose, then, that my journey here was pointless."

"I never asked you to come. It was your own decision."

"Well, the least you can do is let me stay for a few days to restock my caravan. Cair Paravel is a beautiful place. It's been _ages_ since I was last permitted to bask in her glory." Judas was _clearly_ trying flattery to get his way.

Peter sighed, "I'll give you _three_ days to get what you need, but that's all I can allow. My kingdom has been through enough already, I fear your presence would disrupt our newfound peace." Three days was the custom amount of time given. Anything more would be considered generous, but Peter wasn't feeling generous today.

"Thank you, King Peter. Please, allow me to have dinner with you tomorrow evening. I'll have my own slaves prepare it. You need not worry about anything, but showing up."

Peter contemplated this for a moment. Judas was being suspiciously kind, but then, Peter could never figure out how that man's mind worked. He was constantly changing his mind _and_ attitude _and_ behavior. He was unpredictable and yet completely predictable at the same time. Peter didn't know how else to explain it. Judas was truly a special person - though Peter couldn't exactly consider that a complement. In the end, though, he reasoned that a little dinner wouldn't hurt.

 **There's that! I think that chapter was a little less thrown around. Hopefully my others will be that way too. Please review! I must say I was a bit disappointed to receive 0 reviews in my last chapter. Let me know what you thought or how you liked it** **or both.**


	6. The Angel

**So glad a few of you guys decided to answer back! You know, I have a feeling that** **Narnia might start making a comeback. I don't know how many of you have heard, but there are plans to make "The Silver Chair" into a movie. I also heard about a possible series coming out, too. Don't think there will be the same actors, tho. I guess we'll see** **what happens.**

 **So, I got a little of Susan and Peter time in _and_ a little Lucy and Peter time. This chapter I want to get some Susan and Lucy. Please, keep in mind that I'm not trying to add more problems, but bringing to light some problems that were hinted at in the past.** **This chapter _will_ begin to bring to light a little bit more; not sure what all yet. The _next_ chapter will hopefully have a little bit more. I plan on _that_ one containing Peter and Judas's dinner.**

The rest of the day went fairly fast for Susan. Once King Judas left the throne room, the three Pevensies exited to attend to their own duties. Susan was relieved to see Peter out and about _much_ more than before. There were still times when her brother would sulk in his study and refuse to come out, but she would always see her brother about, somewhere in the Cair an hour later or so. Peter always preferred to grieve alone, and Susan knew it was better that way. He hated to feel weak in front of others - even if they _were_ his own siblings. It was hard enough to get him to admit he was struggling as hard as he was, so Susan wouldn't push him.

When night finely came, Susan made her usual trip to Lucy's room. She _always_ visited Lucy at night to help her fall asleep. Sure, Lucy was twelve years old, but Susan didn't blame her. They _all_ needed comfort during this time. Since they lost Edmund, everything has been harder - especially sleeping. It was no secret that Lucy had nightmares - or, more so, happy dreams that reminded her of her loss - but Susan never talked of the dreams she had. They weren't hard to deal with since she was older and knew how to deal with them. She'd had many nightmares in her life that helped her know how to ignore them, but Lucy was still young. Susan couldn't imagine what it would have been like to loose _Peter_ when she was Lucy's age. It would have been harder than anything - that's what she _knew_. It wasn't that she loved Peter _more_ ; it was that, since she was younger than he, Peter was a bit of a role model for her. She looked up to him. When Susan was younger, it seemed that there was nothing her big brother couldn't do. Lucy had also been closer to Edmund than to either her or Peter. Susan couldn't imagine how alone she must feel, now.

"Lu?" Susan peeked her head through the door and saw that familiar light brown hair she knew so well. Lucy sat on her cushioned seat, in front of her vanity. She didn't turn around, even when Susan entered and walked over to stand behind her, "Lucy?"

Lucy continued to stair into the mirror, "I don't recognize myself, anymore."

Susan didn't know what to say; it was a completely unexpected response. Susan decided to use the first thing that came to her mind, "Lucy, don't say that."

"It's true, and not only for myself. All three of us have changed. We're not quite the same people."

Susan pulled an arm chair over and sat next to her sister, "I think I know what you mean. We've each got a hole in our hearts. I think, perhaps, we've been able to deal with it easier for a while, since it seemed so far away. Since King Judas is _here_ \- since there are Calormen here - it seems so much closer and so much more real."

Lucy looked to Susan and nodded, "I _know_ it wasn't his fault, but I can't help but feel a hatred toward him. I feel guilty that I feel that way, but it's true."

"He is responsible for the crimes of his people, just as we are for our people. It was the Calormene people that made these holes in our hearts - everybody knows it. Just because there isn't true proof doesn't make them innocent. It's natural to feel that way toward him, Lu. Even _I_ feel that way toward him, and I _know_ Peter does too." Susan rested her hands on top of Lucy's.

"I can't blame Judas for the crimes of his people. It's not just."

"You and I both know that Judas isn't here to help. Even if he _isn't_ personally responsible for what happened, he is responsible for the deaths of many more. That man deserves to be despised; you can't feel guilty for despising him for the wrong reasons." Susan reasoned, though she wasn't sure it would help. It must have done the job, however, because Lucy gave a slight, half-hearted smile.

"I suppose you're right. I've never liked Judas, anyways."

Susan smiled back, "I've always thought that you were a little _too_ nice for your own good. I'll admit it, though. I've always been a little bit jealous."

"Jealous? Of _me_?"

"Well, it helps to know that you can actually have feelings of _hate_ towards someone. You've always been a bit of angel."

Lucy scoffed, "You wouldn't be saying that if you could hear my thoughts."

"Oh, Lu, it's not necessarily our thoughts that make us good or bad people; it's what we choose to act on and what to say. We can't control our thoughts, but we can discipline ourselves to act on what we _know_ is right - eventually, our thoughts will follow our actions and words. We _all_ have bad thoughts sometimes, but you know what strikes me?"

"What's that?" Lucy asked, curiosity obviously lacing her voice.

" _You_ actually noticed _and_ felt bad about it. You're the the kindest person I know, Lu, and no hole in your heart will _ever_ change that."

Lucy smiled a big smile - a truer smile than she had smiled in a long time - and flung her arms around Susan's neck, "Thank you, Susan. Thank you, so much."


	7. The Slave

**You guys have been doing better in reviews. Proud of my peeps.**

 **So, I decided to put off writing the dinner scene in this chapter since this ended up being _much_ longer than I anticipated. It's my longest chapter yet, so I hope you like it. ****Read this and let me know what you think!**

Peter was glad when Nephtali offered to take care of the extra work he'd been having to do since what happened. Now, as long as he got up early, Peter finished his duties before lunch. It was a great relief and brought the stress down considerably, but now Peter often found himself with nothing to do. _Usually_ he would be able to find Lucy or Susan to help keep him occupied, however, on this particular day, both his sisters decided to spend their time outside of the Cair. They asked for his consent, of course, to go into the woods nearby. Normally Peter would have shown his detest to such an idea, but he was not blind to the fact that the Calormen King Judas had brought with him, were getting rather overbearing.

Susan and Lucy left that morning - with several guards, of course - to get away from their irritating guests. Peter would have liked to go along, but he knew that _one_ of them had to stay behind. It wasn't like when they were younger; they used to be able to all four go into the woods with no guard at all. Those were the days - no trespassers to be concerned about, hardly any work to do (mainly because they didn't know how to do it), and no worries of any lurking danger. Oh, how Peter missed those days; everything was right. It was quite the opposite of how things are now.

As Peter thought on, he wandered into the gardens - Lucy's favorite place in all of Cair Paravel. He didn't have to wonder why; it was beautiful here. The garden was _filled_ with colors. Peter didn't know much about flower names, but he didn't _have_ to to enjoy the gorgeous blue, and purple, and red, and pink, and orange, and yellow colors that flooded his vision.

The mossy green pathway lead him throughout the large garden. Vines draped down from the tall walls, then receded once the walls shortened as they neared the balcony, which looked out over the beach and ocean. When Peter asked the gardener why the walls were so high, - since he knew that flowers needed light - the gardener had stated that the walls allowed for the flowers to get _just_ as much light as they needed. Peter guessed that was why the walls were shaped at an odd angle.

Once Peter made it to the center of the garden, he stopped in front of the statue. The statute was of Aslan; he didn't look to be standing in a mighty stance, bearing his teeth and roaring the way most statues depicted him. Aslan was standing in a gentle and inviting way. He wasn't roaring at all; in fact, he just stood there staring back at Peter. The lion's eyes were kind and took on a sweet look.

Peter liked this statue more than all the other ones that showed him as a mighty and fierce lion. Aslan _was_ a mighty and fierce lion, when he wanted to be, but more often than not, Aslan was kind and gentle, like this statue showed. Somehow this statue made him feel closer to the Great Lion. It was _so_ lifelike, it was as if the statue could start talking and Peter wouldn't know that it wasn't _really_ Aslan.

And then there were the flowers that sat at the base of the statue. They were a glimmering yellow color - that reminded Peter of gold - in the center. When you traced the petal out, you would find it gradually turn from 'gold' yellow to green to blue and, finally, to a deep purple. They were a rare flower; the King's Flower, the gardener said. They were different from the rest in beauty _and_ in behavior. The King's Flower had the ability to fertilize _any_ of the other flowers. They weren't easy to find, and when you _did_ find them, they would be clustered in one little group. Only another King's Flower can fertilize the other, and the sperms never travel very far before they are taken by another flower, so one King's Flower can't fertilize another over long distances. Nobody understands how it works; they all just assume it was by some work of Aslan that it was possible - which it probably was. Whatever the reason, Peter didn't particularly care; all he knew is that it was the most beautiful flower he'd ever seen.

As Peter gazed at the beauty of the image before him, he couldn't help but feel drawn to it; it was almost like something brought him here. He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, before he heard a shuffling noise behind him. Peter immediately turned around. He saw a person, but they were wearing a hood to cover their face. It was at this moment that he realized that this was one of Judas's slaves.

The figure must have seen him, since they tried to leave his presence.

"Hey!" Peter shouted to keep them from walking further away. When the figure stopped, they turned to face him, keeping their head down to cover their face, "What are you doing?"

"I... uh, I..." The voice sounded like that of a male, though Peter couldn't tell what age, since his voice was so raspy, from lack of water, Peter guessed. The size of the person - he was considerably smaller than Peter - made Peter guess that he was still _very_ young, "I... um."

The boy's stuttering was getting them nowhere, though he was probably just in awe of meeting the High King himself, "I say, I wouldn't guess there's any business for you here."

The boy shook his head, "No... I, uh... I shouldn't be here."

Peter cocked an eyebrow at the mysterious boy, "What is your name?"

The boy hesitated, as if wondering if he should offer his name at all, "Umed." He finally said.

"Umed... That's an Archlandish name." Peter concluded aloud.

"I shouldn't be talking to you. I... I need to go."

"Slave!" Peter heard a voice shout through the garden. The boy went rigid.

"I... I have to go." The boy started to leave, but he stopped immediately.

"Stop right there, Slave." Peter saw a slave master come around the corner. He held a wooden rod in his hand. Either the slaver didn't notice Peter was there or he didn't realize who he was, because he never stopped to acknowledge him, "What do you think you're doing here?"

The slave boy turned around and kept his head down, still, "I... I was just-"

"Don't get smart with me. You know you're not supposed to wander." To Peter's horror - and likely to the boy's too - the master crossed the distance between him and the boy. The slave boy cowered as the man lifted the rod and brought it down. After a couple blows the boy was on the ground and the master continued to beat him. The boy's hood nearly came off at one point, but he quickly pulled it back up over his head. Peter knew that slaves could get punished more severely for letting their hoods down in the presence of their slavers.

Peter watched in a daze for a few moments before he got a hold of himself, "Calormene!" He shouted.

The slaver stopped his beating and looked over to Peter, "Who do you think you are to be interrupting me? This isn't any of your business."

Peter lifted his head a little higher and pointed to his crown, "High King Peter, the Magnificent."

Peter saw the immediate change in the man's features. He slumped and fear grew in his eyes, "I... I"

"And this _is_ my business. You are beating a boy in _my_ gardens - gardens that Aslan himself helped grow. This garden is to be held in the highest respect, as am _I,_ so it would appear that you have wronged my kingdom in not one, but _two_ ways."

The slaver crumpled to the floor. He likely knew that he could easily be imprisoned or even executed for an offense such as this, "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I didn't know. I swear, I didn't realize."

"And that makes _beating_ a poor defenseless boy to near unconsciousness just?" Peter scolded the man.

"No, sire, it doesn't. I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry. It won't happen again." The slaver bowed his head in humility.

"It better _not_. You tell your king that if I _ever_ see such a demonstration in my home again, my hospitality, as well as my patience, will cease to exist."

"Yes, sire, right away." The man stood and turned, ready to leave.

"And, Calormene," The slaver halted as Peter spoke, "fix this boy up. I would much appreciate to see him at dinner tonight."


	8. The Gentle

**Thank you, thunderbird shadow, for continuing to review, faithfully. I can always count on your reviews to keep me motivated.**

 **Can't wait to get this story running downhill. Stick with me here, guys. I'd love to hear from some of you newer readers or some of you who haven't reviewed yet. I'd like to, also, say that I _will_ write another chapter for a follow or a favorite; those are always appreciated.**

 **Also, _another_ long chapter, so dinner will have to be put off once more. I don't exactly think you're looking forward to it, but I know you guys expected it to happen two chapters ago. To make up for my horrible judgement, I've given you guys some of the answers you wanted. _Please_ don't hate me. I'm sorry if it's hard to read.**

Susan dismissed her and Lucy's guards as soon as they were back inside Cair Paravel. Though she wasn't comfortable with the Calormenes inside the Cair, she wouldn't have soldiers guarding her like she was a delicate being that couldn't take care of herself; besides, a man would have to be _insane_ to try and hurt a queen in her own palace. Even if a man _did_ try to harm her, she was well trained and could fend for herself. If she and Lucy were seen by the Calormenes _with_ guards, it would imply that the queens were unnerved by their presence, and that was the last thing they wanted; though Susan was grateful for the guards presence, especially Ziddim, a wolf _and_ the Captain of Edmund's guard, who often insisted on accompanying her and Lucy on potentially dangerous trips. She guessed that he must feel guilty for what happened.

"Excuse me," came a voice, and Susan stopped her parade through the palace to face its owner.

"Yes?" Susan recognized the man as one of the men who entered the throne room with Judas. He was about Peter's age, she assumed.

"You are Queen Susan, are you not?" The man - who was more of a boy - asked.

"And Queen Lucy." Susan gestured to her young sister who stood beside her, but Lucy just gave a small courtesy and walked away toward her private room. Her sister wanted _no_ interaction with a Calormene. Susan turned back to the boy, "I recognize you from the throne room. You must hold some rank. A Tarkaan, perhaps?"

"I am King Judas's nephew; his first heir." The boy responded.

"I see," Susan cast her eyes down, almost as if in disappointment His _heir,_ "and does this _heir_ have a name?"

"Ah, yes," The boy chuckled, as though just remembering that he did, indeed, have a name, "Prince Agatone of Calormen."

"Well, Prince Agatone, what do you want from me?" Susan asked, bluntly. She was _not_ looking forward to a conversation with a Calormene.

Agatone got straight to the point, "I know that you Narnians have something against my people. I don't see why we can't all be friends."

" _You_ don't see why? The man you call _king_ has wronged us in a way that we struggle to forgive. It wasn't _our_ fault." Susan argued, crossing her arms.

"So, we decide to keep slaves, why does _that_ count as a wrong against _you_? And I heard about my uncle's attempt at your silverware; a folly mistake, whether on purpose or not. I think you should drop it." Agatone seemed _completely_ oblivious.

"Are you _joking_?" Susan scoffed, "This isn't about some _silverware_ , and it isn't about your slaves - yes it is wrong, but it is no offense against us, and we cannot change it."

"Then what is this about?"

"My brother; that's what this is about." Susan snapped back.

"High King Peter? What has he got to do with this?"

Was this boy so oblivious that he didn't know? " _Not_ _him."_ Susan closed her eyes for a few lingering moments, trying to hold back both anger _and_ grief.

"King Edmund." Agatone seemed to just realize, "This is about your _lost_ brother?"

Susan opened her eyes, once more, to look at the prince, "It is."

"What could my uncle have done? Everybody knows that King Edmund was killed on a military mission."

"It isn't what King Judas _did_ do; it's what he's _not_ doing."

Agatone furrowed his brow, "I think you've lost me."

"He won't accept his responsibility. Are you _really_ so oblivious that you don't know what's happening in your own kingdom?"

Agatone shook his head, "Uncle never tells me much. He says that I should keep my nose out of his business if I don't want to lose my inheritance. He could _easily_ give it away to one of my cousins."

Susan couldn't believe she was about to say this, "You're not like your uncle, are you?"

"I know my uncle is an evil man, unlike my relatives. Calormen is falling apart under his rule, and I feel it is my duty to save it. I believe that, in knowing our arguments, I can help fix them."

"You really want to know why we have separated ourselves from you?" Susan wasn't entirely sure she was ready to talk about it, but she had a chance to change all of Calormen's future right before her, and she wouldn't let her grief get in the way. If she could persuade this young heir into changing Calormen, it might save a country _and_ prevent a, seemingly inevitable, war.

"I do. Please, why don't we walk while you tell me. It will be good for my people to see you are not intimidated by us. I know how their minds work." Agatone gestured for her to walk and matched her pace when she set off.

"Well, it started a few months ago, as you might expect. It was supposed to be routine - it's common for Narnia to send out companies of soldiers to demonstrate our power and ward off anyone who might think they stand a chance against us in battle." Susan took a deep breath, "I don't know how it all went; I only know what Ziddim told us."

"Only tell me what you know for fact; no hearsay."

Susan nodded, "Ziddim said that they were passing by Calormen when it happened. There was no warning, he said, they were surrounded. Ziddim tried to get to Edmund, but they were separated. He described men in large turbans with scimitars as their weapons; both of which are clear indicators of Calormene assailants."

"I can't imagine _any_ Calormene attacking a Narnian group with a _king_ in it." Agatone piped in, "I know they can push their rights, but that's ridiculous."

"Ziddim said that it was dark; they may not have known." Susan lowered her head, "It still didn't affect the outcome, however. Our forces were able to push them back, but by the time the battle was over, many were dead and some were captured." Susan paused for a moment, caught up in the thoughts of what her brother must have been through.

"Your brother was among the dead?" Agatone asked.

"No," Susan sniffed away the tears that dared to enter her eyes, "But I wish he had been."

Agatone looked utterly confused by now, "How could you say that?"

Once Susan got a hold of herself, she continued, though she seemed to be speaking through a trance, "It would have been much more simple... The next morning, they found his body... He'd been beaten and mutilated beyond recognition. I couldn't bear to see him, but Peter had to; he couldn't let it go... I wish he'd never told me what he saw. Edmund's dark hair was barely visible underneath all the blood. His royal tunic, marked with the Pevensie crest, clung to his lifeless body like a wet rag. His body was broken and there was hardly a patch of skin that wasn't covered in blood."

Agatone stared in stunned silence for a few prolonged moments before being able to speak, "You describe it well for one who never saw his body."

"I've seen it." Susan replied, but she didn't turn to look him in the eye, "I see it every night when I fall asleep."

Agatone gulped, "I think... I understand why you are upset with my people."

"They took away something very precious to me, and I'll never be able to get it back. I don't know if I'll _ever_ learn to forgive them." Fresh tears sparkled in Susan's eyes.

"I don't expect you to. You were wronged by my people, and I'm afraid all I can do is apologize." Agatone replied, and Susan could hear the sorrow in his own words.

"You've already done more than any of the other Calormene; for that, you have my respect." Susan nodded toward the boy.

"Thank you, Queen Susan of Narnia. I'm afraid I must be going, but please feel free to speak with me at any moment. I will always be here to listen." Agatone froze his step and turned to Susan.

"Thank you, Prince Agatone of Calormen, for giving me a new insight into your people. Perhaps you aren't _all_ as bad as you seem." Susan gave a small smile to the young man.

"I certainly hope not." Agatone returned the smile, took a deep bow, then turned and left.

Susan dared to wonder, had she just made a new friend? With a Calormene - no, the _Prince_ of Calormen - no less. No, she wouldn't consider it that. For now, it was only an acquaintance; nothing more. Susan never wished for anything more than that.


	9. The King

**We will hopefully be getting places, now.** **I think this chapter is really good.**

 **So, to answer a question: Narnia and Calormen are separated by Archland and Desert.** **How does that work with what happened to Edmund?**

 **The answer is really quite simple: It was _not_ the Narnia/Calormen border; there isn't one. Explanation? Well, you guys know how the U.S. sends out naval ships around the world to demonstrate power? That's kinda what I was trying to imply.**

 **Is this just an answer to make up for a mistake? I will admit that I don't know a lot about Narnian geography, but this is not why I'm giving you this answer. It was part of my plan from the beginning to give that link to our world.**

 **Proof? Evidence that I wasn't planning on it being in Narnia is this: Why would a military demonstrate power in their _own_ country? It doesn't make sense. The logical thing to do is to go around to _other_ countries and give a show of power. I hope that answers all your questions.**

 ** _Also,_ if you look closely at some of my chapters, you might get clues to future developments in the story.**

 _Lucy walked through the beautiful wooded greenery that surrounded her. She stared in awe at the way the flower pedals danced around her - no matter how many times she'd seen it happen, it never ceased to amaze her how beautiful it could be. The winds sang the song that they so often sang before. The trees rejoiced in the majesty of this natural kingdom. The creek harmonized with her surroundings as she trickled over the smooth stones beneath her. Such divine beauty could only be found in Narnia._

 _Lucy barely noticed when the sun faded and the moon took her place. She was adamant on her destination. It only took a few more moments to find what she was looking for._

 _The Valiant Queen stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the surrounding hills and the mountains in the distance. The stars sparkled so brightly above that Lucy could have sworn she was looking through a telescope pointed at the night sky. The constellations danced in a heavenly manner that only they knew how. The mighty mountains were mere silhouettes against the even mightier skies. Lucy breathed in all the beauty as she found a seat on the large mossy rock she knew so well._

 _"Enjoying the view?"_

 _Lucy snapped her head to the right - the direction she heard the voice come from, "Edmund." Was all she could get out._

 _Edmund smiled and gestured to the rock, "May I?"_

 _Lucy snapped out of her daze with a shake of her head, "Yes, of course."_

 _Edmund sat down beside her and looked out over the vast terrain, "It's beautiful, is it not?"_

 _"It_ is _." Lucy smiled, looking back out to the glorious view, "Remember when we used to sit here together?"_

 _Her brother chuckled softly, "Of course I do, Lu. How could I forget?"_

 _Lucy shook her head, "It's been so long since we were last here."_

 _No amount of time can drown out the memory of something so dear to you."_

 _"And those memories are some of my most dear. You used to wake me at night, practically dragging me out the door. I was always dreadfully tired and half miserable during the climb, but it was all worth it once we reached the top." Lucy smiled, but seeing sorrow in Edmund's return smile was caused hers to drop. There was a small moment of silence before Lucy spoke again, "This is a dream, isn't it?"_

 _Lucy heard her brother sigh and lower his head, but he didn't face her the way she faced him, "I'm afraid it is."_

 _"Then, you're not_ really _here." Lucy was broken. She should've known it was too good to be true. Her brother was gone._

 _This time, Edmund turned to face her, "I'm sorry, Lu, I wish it didn't have to be like this."_

 _"How could Aslan do this to us?" Tears entered Lucy's vision, and she nudged closer to Edmund, clutching onto his arm. She closed her eyes as Edmund wrapped his arms around her, and rubbed her nose on his tunic, breathing in his scent. Only, it wasn't his scent._

 _Lucy's_ _fingers that_ _were intertwined in Edmund's tunic began to suddenly feel a change. The arms around her disappeared. The tunic transformed from a thick wool into a soft furry feeling substance. Lucy opened her eyes,_ _"Aslan_."

 _Hello, Little One." The large lion's kind eyes looked down upon her in a pitying manner._

 _"Are you real?" Lucy asked with a spark of hope._

 _"I'm am as real as your dreams are."_

 _Lucy looked away in disappointment, "Then you're not real."_

 _"I never said that, Dear One. Your dreams are as real as you make them; what happens in them are real to_ you

 _"Then, it_ is _you." Lucy smiled. She_ _pulled herself closer to the massive lion and rested her head against his soft mane, "Aslan, how could you let this happen to us?"_

 _"It is as you said, Lucy."_

 _"What did I say?"_

 _"About Edmund waking you and bringing you up here."_

 _Lucy sniffled, "What does_ that _have to do with anything?"_

 _Aslan pulled away from Lucy and looked her in the eyes, "You were perfectly happy while you slept; everything was fine for you. Then Edmund would come and wake you from your dreams to take you on a journey."_

 _"Yes, It was always so exhausting and I was so tired."_

 _"But once you reached the top - once the pain was over - you were able to look out over this beauty, and see what all of this was for." Aslan explained._

 _Lucy downcast her eyes, "I would go through it all again if just to see this sight. It was_ so _worth it."_

 _"And so will this be too."_

 _She looked back up into the eyes of the Great Lion, "But how can I know?"_

 _Aslan gave that smile that only he could give - the one that could turn a heart of stone to one of gold, "You must trust me the way you trusted Edmund."_

 _Lucy nodded, "I think I can do that."_

 _"My dear Lucy, I know you can."_

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

"I am _so_ pleased to be able to serve you here today. I hope that this time will be better than the last." King Judas looked at Peter, expectantly.

"This dinner can go however you want it to. Choose your actions wisely, and we may not have another 'misunderstanding'." Peter rested back in his seat.

"Uh, yes, I suppose that is fair." Judas gave a strained half smile.

"Is there some reason you wanted to so _graciously_ offer me dinner?" Peter inquired.

"Can't a king just be hospitable to his _ally_?"

"I never took you as the _hospitable_ type." Peter cocked an expectant eyebrow at the other man across from him.

"Well, I saw a friend in need and decided to try and help."

Peter shook his head, "You've never been so eager to help before. Forgive me if I'm a little wary."

"I think you would be wise to accept my help. You never know what the consequences might be when you turn away help that is knocking at your door."

Before Peter knew it, his wit was stepping in, "I've met help before, and he looks nothing like you."

Judas gave out a laugh that was clearly faked. Peter had to stop himself from cringing at the poor attempt, "I see your sense of humor is still intact."

"I suppose that is lucky for all of us; especially you."

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but I think you fail to realize that I've done nothing wrong since entering your kingdom." Judas tried to set up his defense, but Peter already had his attack strategy set.

"No, I think it is _you_ who fail to realize that it is _not_ okay to demonstrate violence in _my_ home. I don't care if the lad _is_ a slave, I will not see _anybody_ beaten within my walls." Peter was trying all he could not to shout at the insolent man, "I've been _trying_ to be patient with you, but you're not making it easy."

"Yes, I'm surprised you are still thinking about that. It's done and passed; I've made sure that all my men know your rules, here."

"I could _never_ forget what I watched that _man_ \- if he can even be called that - do to that _poor_ young lad! He can't be old enough to even be considered an adult!"

Judas brushed it off just like he brushed everything else off, "He is a mere slave. He is used to it."

"But he _shouldn't_ be used to it. Slaves are not _animals_ ; they are people, just like you."

"The way I see it is that you have to be strong to make it in this world. The weak serve the strong, and those who aren't strong enough die. I am making a world for the strong by weeding out the weak. Only the strongest will make it in Calormen, and that's how _all_ the world should be." Judas looked proud of his statement. How could such a _weasel_ live with himself?

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't. We obviously have our own opinions. I think we should just agree to disagree."

Peter knew that nothing he could say would persuade this man to change his mind, so he simply sat back in his chair, once more, and let the slaves serve him food. Peter didn't justify letting the slaves serve him, but Judas insisted; besides, if the slaves were here, then they couldn't be put to worse labor.

One of the slaves walked by with his goblet of wine and placed it before him; then Peter heard a whisper in his ear.

"Don't drink the wine." Came a quiet raspy voice.

Peter recognized the voice as the one of the slave boy - Umed, he recalled - he'd met earlier that day. Peter turned to inquire about what the lad meant, but he had already left his side and was leaving the room.

"Is something wrong?" Peter's attention was drawn back to his present company.

"Sorry... no. I just thought I heard something. I was wrong." Peter turned back to his meal, being ever so careful to not drink the wine.


	10. Faith

Peter carried his wine filled goblet through Cair Paravel and down to the healing rooms. There was a reason that Umed told him not to drink it and Peter was sure that it was more than him just not wanting the king to enjoy his meal; it was entirely possible for there to be poison inside the drink.

If Judas had arranged for Peter to be poisoned, then that would destroy their treaty and most likely cause a war. A war was the _last_ thing Peter wanted, but if his life _was_ in danger, he had to find out.

"Good evening, Your Majesty. How may I be of service, today." The lead healer approached Peter and have a small greeting bow.

"Good evening, Iason." Peter nodded at his head to the faun healer, who was also a good friend of his - though he must admit that Edmund knew him better, "I was wondering if you could run some tests on this wine for me. I have my suspicions that it may be poisoned."

" _Poisoned_ , My King? That would be _very_ bold."

"Nonetheless, I must know if there was an attempt on my life. Oh, and let's keep this between us. I would hate to start a kingdom-wide panic over something that needs to be dealt with subtly."

Iason took the goblet and nodded his head, "Anything you like, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Iason, you're a good friend."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Lucy sat straight in her bed. She hadn't left her room since she parted with Susan that evening. After waking from her dream, Lucy decided to occupy herself in trying to decipher what exactly Aslan meant.

Aslan had said after they reached the top, everything would be worth the climb. Well, Lucy couldn't imagine how _anything_ could be worth the loss of a brother. All she could wish for was to have things be the way they were just a few months ago; she didn't _want_ anything more. She was happy then, and couldn't possibly ask for anything more, but now, everything was different. Lucy supposed she would just have to have faith in Aslan; he's never failed her before.

"Lucy?" Came the voice of Lucy's big sister, from the door.

"Hello, Susan."

Susan opened the door a little wider, "May I come in?"

"Of course, Susan. You're always welcome."

Susan entered and closed the door behind her before walking across the room and joining Lucy on her bed, "You look like you have something on your mind."

"Who was that man who came up to us today - the Calormene?"

Susan didn't say anything for a moment, as if she was trying to think of what to say, "He was... Judas's nephew."

" _Judas's_ nephew? How could you bear to talk with him?"

Susan shrugged, slightly, "He wasn't _anything_ like Judas, in fact, he seemed nice and even acknowledged that Judas is an evil man and plans to change things when he is king."

"But he's a _Calormene_ , Susan. It's in their _nature_ to do evil." Lucy argued, though she knew that it wasn't what she really believed.

" _Lucy!_ I'm surprised at you. You know as well as I do how untrue that is. Calormenes are their _own_ individuals and they don't have to follow our stereotype of them. It's unfair." Susan scolded.

Lucy downcast her eyes and pulled her knees up to her and hugged them, "I'm sorry, Susan. You're right, I acted rashly."

"It's okay, Lucy." Susan rested as hand on Lucy's arm, "I have a feeling that's not _all_ that's on your mind."

Lucy shook her head, slowly, "I had a dream, today."

"Is that all?"

"Aslan was in my dream; not like _part_ of my dream, if you know what I mean. He was _really_ there."

"You saw Aslan?" Susan now looked suddenly _very_ interested in what she had to say, "What did he tell you?"

"I ask him every day to tell me why Edmund is gone; finally I got to ask him in person."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me that it's all for the better good. He says that once it's all over, everything will be better than it was before." Lucy explained.

"How can that be possible? Everything was _perfect_ before."

Lucy shook her head, "I don't know, but we must have faith. Aslan told me to have faith."

"It's hard to have faith in times like this. I can always find ways to reassure you or Peter of an existing hope, but I can't reassure myself. How can Aslan ask us to have faith when everything is so hopeless? He's given us no _reason_ to have faith."

"That's not what faith is, Susan." Lucy inched her way closer to her big sister, "Faith is believing, even when you've been given no reason to. Aslan has made a promise to us, and he's never failed to fulfill a promise."

Susan smiled, "I wish I had the same faith you do, Lu."

"You _can_ , if you try."

"And I think I would like to try."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Peter woke that morning to knocking on his door. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned, before sitting up in his bed, "What is it?"

"It's Nephtali, Your Majesty. The master healer, Iason, requests your presence. He's says it's urgent."

"Thank you, Nephtali; I will head down immediately." He heard Nephtali's receding footsteps, then threw the covers off his body and slung his legs over the side of the bed. Once Peter dressed himself, he set immediately out of his room, on a mission. He maneuvered himself through the many extravagant halls and down the shiny marble stairs. It wasn't long before he found his destination.

"Iason." Peter greeted once he noticed the healer walking toward him. Iason had a troubled look on his face.

"Good morning, High King Peter. So sorry to wake you this early."

"No worries, Iason, I would have been up before too long. Now," Peter cleared his throat, "what have you found on the wine I gave you?"

"Yes, Sire. I ran some tests on it and found something very disturbing." Peter only cocked an eyebrow as indication for Iason to continue, "I found that it _is_ , in fact, poison."

Peter couldn't say he was particularly shocked, "What kind of poison?"

"That's what disturbs me. I've never _seen_ any kind of poison like this. It's... different."

"Was it to kill?"

"In the quantity you were given, yes, it was. I believe, though, in smaller quantities it would not kill, but rather cause great discomfort or a dreadful sickness." Iason explained.

"And how fast would it have set in?"

Iason hesitated before giving an answer, "I... am not sure. With your consent, I would like to continue my testing on it."

"You have my consent, as _long_ as you report your findings to me."

The master healer nodded, "Thank you, My King. If I may ask, how did you know that the wine was poisoned?"

Peter thought about what he should respond. He didn't want Umed to be discovered; the lad saved his life. He knew Iason could be trusted, but he couldn't risk the possibility of news getting out, "Let's just say I have somebody to thank for my being here today."

"Well, Sire, I would like to suggest you _do_ thank them. You would not be here now if you drank that wine."

Peter nodded and smiled, "I think I might just listen to your suggestion."


	11. Thanks

**Past 10 chapters, already! This is going so fast, yet it's still far from over. Would like to see a few more reviews out there, from you guys. I think you could do a bit better. My Hobbit readers gave me three times as many as you guys.**

Peter left the healing rooms with a new mission in mind. He just _had_ to talk with Umed. The young slave had saved his life; Peter owed him a thanks, at _least_. Perhaps if he could find a Calormene man - a slave master, preferably - he would be able to demand a presence with the young lad.

The High King walked up the stairs, only to cone face to face with Susan.

"Peter!" Susan exclaimed at the clear surprise of coming across her brother in such a place.

"Uh, Susan." _Great, now he'd have to come up with an excuse._

"What on earth were you doing in the healing quarters?"

Peter hesitated a moment, "Well, you see... uh... I was just... checking in." It was a horrible excuse, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Checking _in_?" Susan cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him.

Peter simply pulled out a forced smile, "It's been a while since I was last about the Cair. I wanted to know their recent patients and predicaments."

" _You_? I find that hard to believe." Susan stated in an unamused tone.

Peter sighed. He really didn't have time for this, "Look, Su, I really have to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" Susan crossed her arms as Peter began to leave.

"I have to talk to somebody. It's important." Without another word, Peter walked off, ignoring his sister's frustrated grumbles.

Once he got out of sight, Peter immediately set out on his mission; though once he began, he found it much harder than he had first anticipated.

Peter had been wandering around Cair Paravel for what seemed like an hour, and had not yet come across a _single_ Calormene. It was another five minutes before Peter _finally_ saw a Calormene, walking a few yards ahead.

"I say, sir!" Peter called for his attention. The Calormene's face showed a sharp scowl, before he noticed the crown on Peter's head. The look on the man's face turned from one of annoyance to one of fear.

"High King Peter, I... I didn't realize." The Calormene quickly dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"It's no issue. Really. Get up off the floor." Peter had to hand it to the Calormen people; they really knew their manners when it came to royalty.

The Calormene stood, but still kept his head down, "What may I do for His Majesty, High King Peter?"

"I require a presence with one of your slaves, and, please, no questions asked."

"Yes, Sire, but what slave do you wish?"

"A young lad." Peter nodded, "His name is Umed. Bring him to my study. One of the guards may show you."

The Calormene took a small bow, "Right away, Your Majesty."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Peter didn't have to wait in his study long before he was alerted by a knock on the door, "You have guests, Your Majesty." Came the voice of Nephtali from outside the for.

"Show them in." Peter commanded.

The door opened and the Calormene entered with a shorter cloaked figure trailing behind him. The Calormene bowed and Umed followed suit, "Your Majesty." The man said.

"Thank you, my noble Calormene. I hope you won't mind if I ask you to wait outside for a short while."

The Calormene looked between the slave boy and the king, "Of... of course, Sire." The man quickly abandoned the room, leaving Peter and Umed alone.

"Would you like to sit?" Peter gestured to the one of his chairs. Umed said nothing, but sat down in one of the empty seats. Peter sat across from him and folded his hands in front of him, "You... saved my life."

Umed shook his head, "It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. I would be dead if it wasn't for you. I wanted to thank you."

"It would not be good for you too be associated with a slave. You shouldn't have called me here." Umed lowered his head even further than it was already.

"I don't _care_ what others think. I'm the king." Peter sighed, "I can't help but feel drawn to you. You're different."

"I am a slave; nothing more. I am not important."

"That's not true." Peter shook his head, "All slaves are people, just like the rest of us."

"I wish that _all_ people believed that."

Peter's heart split at the brokenness in the young raspy voice. This lad was so young, but he already believed that his life was over. Peter wanted _so_ bad to help him, but there was no way.

"Your voice," Peter began, deciding it was time for a change in topic, "It wasn't always that way, was it?"

The boy shook his hooded head, "No, it was not. We are given only enough water to sustain us. All slaves have a little rasp to their voices."

"Perhaps, then, you would like a little drink?" Peter never gave Umed the chance to respond. He called in Nephtali, who carried in a silver tray with two gold rimmed goblets on it. Peter took his goblet off the one side and gestured for Umed to take the other.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Umed said.

"It's a gift. A way of saying thanks." Peter smiled and took a sip of his wine.

Umed shook his head, "No thanks are needed. The way I see it, we are already even. You saved me from the Calormene and I saved you from the poison."

"So you were simply, returning the favor?" Peter couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

"Of course not. They told us to put the poison in your goblet; I couldn't let you die."

"You have a noble heart, Umed. You risked your life for me; that is not something I will take lightly." Peter couldn't see Umed's face under the hood, but he was sure that, if he could, he would see a look of distress plastered on his features.

"I will... accept your thanks."

Peter smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Umed, from the bottom of my heart." When Umed says nothing to respond, Peter continued, "I would very much like to see the face of the man who saved my life."

Umed hesitated. He didn't say anything. Both sat in silence for a few moments before Umed grabbed the rim on both sides of his hood. He pulled it back, but kept his eyes down.

Peter felt his heart stop for a moment. His mouth hung open in utter shock, "Ed?"


	12. Umed

**Whoa! Plot twist! *insert marvel meme* 'You didn't see that coming?'** **Come on, reviewers! You can do better than that! I'm starting to think I might have to turn back to Tolkien after this story.**

"Ed?"

Umed kept his eyes looking down. He was silent for some time, trying to think of what to say. If he were honest, Umed didn't think this day would ever come, "Not anymore."

"This _can't_ be happening. I... I'm dreaming." Umed heard Peter stand and could hear steady footsteps approaching him, "Edmund?"

Umed couldn't bring himself to meet Peter's eyes, "I'm not him. My name is Umed. I'm a slave and I always will be."

Peter reached out to him, but Umed pushed his hand away. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the hurt he caused Peter.

"My brother is _not_ a slave. He is a king and one of my dearest friends. I thought he was dead." Peter bent down to his level and Umed turned his head away. He couldn't bear to see his brother; not while he was still in bondage. Umed's siblings needed to see him free. The bonds of slavery would bring shame upon his family.

"Then your brother is still lost to you. He died, along with any hope I had left." If Umed looked to Peter, he knew he would see a sadness in his eyes.

"I don't believe that, even for a moment. My brother would never lose hope. He's a fighter and he would never stop trying to get to his family until he was in the ground. Now, if I ever knew you as anything other than a slave, meet my eyes." Peter's voice was stern, but gentle, and Umed realized that he had no other choice, but to obey

Umed opened his eyes and looked right into those of his once-upon-a-time brother. The young slave's eyes were filled with the pain he'd endured over the past months, but he knew Peter recognized him.

"Those are my brother's eyes." Peter reached out and placed his hands on either side of Umed's bruised face, "You... you're really here. It's really you." Peter's eyes shined with joyful tears and he placed his forehead to Umed's.

Umed had tried to keep from letting Peter get close, from letting himself get close, but the affectionate touch reminded Umed of how much he really missed his family and his home. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing Peter's forearm in an attempt to keep him there longer - even if it was just for a little while longer.

Peter pulled away and Umed met his eyes once more, "I thought you were dead." Peter pulled Umed into a tight hug.

Umed wrapped his arms around Peter and rested his head on his shoulder. Unable to hold it in any longer, Umed let his tears fall, "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, Pete."

How could he bear to keep himself away from the ones he loved most. Even if he couldn't stay here - oh, how wished he could stay here - he had to know his family was okay.

"Ed, how did you ever survive?"

"It's a longer story than we have time for. How are Susan and Lu?" Umed inquired.

Peter chuckled, "Fine. They're fine. They'll be much better once I tell them you're alive." Peter pulled out of their hug, but kept Umed at arms length, looking him over and wincing at his beaten face and thin form.

Umed shook his head, "You can't tell them _anything_ , Pete."

Umed watched his brother's eyebrows knit and his smile disappear, "Why ever not?"

"I'm not free, Peter. I'm not a king anymore; I'm a slave." Umed couldn't bear to look Peter in the eyes. He knew he was not worthy enough to be in his brother's presence; not as a slave.

"Edmund, you're a king of _Narnia_ \- one of _Aslan's_ chosen kings. You could never be a slave."

"No," Umed shook his head, "I was captured and sold. As part of the Calormen law, I'm a slave until I die or until my master frees me."

"Well, then I'll buy you from Judas and free you myself." Peter looked proud of his new plan; Umed felt bad that he had to ruin it.

"It's not legal, according to Narnia's laws, and even if it was, Judas would notice your interest in me and use me against you."

Peter scoffed, "Using you against me would only start a war."

"War that is already set into play by his attempt on your life. Judas knows that a war is bound to happen. If he finds out about me, he will surely use me to gain his upper hand. It's no use for the girls to know I'm alive if I'm already as good as dead." Umed looked away at the look of defeat that appeared on Peter's face.

They both knew that the girls would be ecstatic to hear that their brother was alive, but if something were to happen to him again, it would start the grieving process all over. They had already lost Edmund, it would be best if they never got to know Umed.

"Ed, I will do whatever it takes to get you back." Umed looked back to Peter when he was addressed. He had noticed it earlier, but now it was even more pronounced. Peter had a layer of sweat on his forehead that dripped even more by the second.

"Pete, you look pale. Are you alright?"

Peter nodded, "I'm fine. Just... tell me how you... survived. I want to know."

His brother tried to hide it, but Umed knew that Peter was feeling ill, "Perhaps you should sit."

"Yes... yes of course." Peter's eyes started to glaze over and Umed knew that something was seriously wrong. He tried to help Peter stand, but he stumbled and about brought them both to the ground. Luckily, Umed was strong enough to hold his brother up.

Umed pulled his hood back over his head, "Help! Somebody!"

It wasn't half a second before Nephtali was running into the room, quickly followed by two minataur guards. Nephtali rushed to Peter's side and helped to hold him up.

"Sire," The faun said, "what's wrong?"

Peter was thrown into a coughing fit. By the end of it, he was barely conscious, "Poison." That was the last thing Peter got out before he went limp and Umed helped to lower him to the ground.

Umed looked into the sweaty face of his brother. He wiped some strands of hair out of Peter's face and felt his burning forehead. Peter looked so peaceful right now, but Umed couldn't imagine what he was feeling.

Nephtali's voice pulled Umed out of his thoughts, "Bring the king to the healing quarters! And guards, arrest this slave; he's poisoned the king!"

Before Umed knew what had happened, the two minataur guards had grabbed him by the arms and pulled him away from his brother's sleeping form. Desperate to stay by Peter's side, Umed fought their hold.

"No!" He cried, "I didn't poison him! Let me go! I'm innocent!"

The minataur to his right threw him up against a wall, face first, "I guess we'll have to this the hard way."

Umed's hands were pulled behind him and he felt the stinging metal of shackles close around his wrists. He thrashed against the guards' hold, but they were much stronger. Before he knew it, Umed had been pulled away from the room and was being led down to the dungeons.


	13. Poison

**Trust me. I will reveal all the answers to your questions in this story, but you have to be patient. For one answer, Judas does _not_ know who Edmund is. How he does _not_ know will be revealed when I decide to reveal it.**

 **Now, I'm _so_ glad that more of you guys decided to answer! It really brightens my spirits when I see more than _one_ notification in my review box. So, am I doing a good job? I don't know how you Narnia readers like your stuff.**

"Queen Susan! Queen Lucy!"

Susan looked up from the meal she had been sharing with her sister to see a young faun running to meet them, "Bowden, whatever is the matter?" She could see the worry in his eyes and it killed her to have to wait for an answer, but Bowden was trying to gather his breath from the run.

When he could finally speak, the faun spoke very fast, "His Majesty, High King Peter is on his way to the healing quarters! He's fallen ill!"

Susan stood from her seat and she could hear Lucy do the same, but her eyes remained fixed on Bowden, "Did they say what is wrong?"

"Nobody can be sure until the healers take a look at him, but the king himself said it was poison."

The queen needed to hear no other words before she was running past the faun, out of the dining room and through the massive labyrinth that she called home.

Lucy pattered up beside her, "Peter's been poisoned?"

"I don't know, Lu, but if he has we'd better be there." Susan didn't say anything else for the rest of the walk to the healing rooms. She didn't know what else to say. She'd already lost one brother; she couldn't imagine what would happen if she lost Peter too. _Oh, Aslan, haven't we been through enough, already?_

"Iason." Susan stopped the master healer as he rushed past her, "Where is my brother?"

"Follow me, Your Majesty. There isn't much time." Iason didn't even bother to bow - not that it bothered Susan, but it gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She and Lucy followed the master healer into one of the back rooms. Lucy gasped at the sight and Susan had to hitch her breath in order to keep from doing the same. It was entirely different from what they had expected it to be. Susan had thought that he would be feverish and perhaps unconscious, but he was awake. Peter was anything but peaceful. He fought hard against the healers and nurses that held him down. He was covered in sweat and his face was bright red. Peter growled ferociously at the people who were trying to help him.

"Release me! Let me go! He needs my help!" Peter fought harder and harder with each word, "What did you do with him?"

Iason placed a cold cloth on the kings forehead in attempt to bring his fever down, "I'm almost finished with the cure, but he has to hold on a bit longer."

Susan nodded, never taking her eyes off of her kingly brother, "Who is he talking about? Who does he think needs his help?"

"Your Majesty," Susan met his eyes and saw a sympathy obvious in his gaze, "he calls for his brother."

Susan glanced back to Peter in a new form of sadness. He was fighting to get to Edmund? It broke her heart to see him calling for someone who would never be calling back. Susan could only hope that his memory would return when the fever was gone. She couldn't bear the thought of having to give Peter the horrible truth.

"Ed!" Peter cried in anguish.

Susan felt Lucy's fingers grab tightly onto her arm. She looked down into her sister's fearful eyes. Lucy couldn't stay here any longer, so Susan decided to follow Iason into the next room. Lucy sat down in the corner; Susan would have sat with her, but she had some questions.

"Can you find the cure?" She said as she approached Iason.

Iason nodded as he fiddled with some bottles of ingredients, "I think so. I'm finishing up on something that I believe will work."

"Do they knew who did it?"

"The guards arrested the slave boy who was with him when he fell ill. It is believed that he is the one responsible."

Susan knit her brows together, "But you don't _know_?"

"His Majesty was alone with the slave when it happened. They are the only ones who know what happened."

"They were _alone_? How could they be left alone? And why would Peter need to speak to a slave?" Susan was utterly confused. Too many questions and not enough answers.

"Perhaps you can ask His Majesty when he is better. Please excuse my rude departure, but I must tend to my patient." With that, Iason left the room and went into the next. Susan followed and joined him at Peter's side. Her brother's crazed eyes met hers and Susan saw something in them. They looked like the eyes of a viscous animal, but underneath, they had a longing - they looked as though they were trapped and needed a way out. He looked like he had lost something and was looking desperately to find it.

Susan thought that he had been searching for _her_ eyes, but the glance Peter gave was brief and his eyes kept searching for whatever he thought he was missing.

"Inject him." Susan said, not once taking her eyes of of Peter's struggling form. She couldn't bear to see him tormented like this.

Iason nodded and stuck a long needle in the King's forearm. Peter jolted and cried out at the sudden pain, but it wasn't a moment later when he relaxed and closed his eyes. The other healers released their hold on him and Susan allowed herself to breathe when she noticed Peter's steady intake of breath that indicated a deep sleep.

"He will wake... with time. His body has been trying to fight the poison. He just needs some rest."

Susan nodded, "What kind of poison was it?"

"I don't know," Iason shook his head, "His Majesty brought me a sample last night to look over."

"This isn't the first attempt?" Susan questioned.

"In afraid not. I'm sorry to be the bearer of such news. I'd assumed you had already spoken."

Susan shook her head. Her feeling of worry turned to one she could only describe as frustration and confusion, "I suppose we'll have that talk when he wakes, but first... I'd like to talk to that slave."


	14. Bars In Between

**Answer to a question: I don't know a lot about the Narnia. I tried to look up different names from Archland, but I couldn't find anything on names other than those of Archland rulers. Umed is a name from our world. I wanted to give him a name that meant more than nothing. Any names _I_ made up would mean nothing. Edmund is important, so I thought he deserved a name that meant something.**

 **Umed is an Indian name, meaning Hope. I thought that hope fit him best _and_ it was similar enough to Edmund and easy enough to say. If I chose something harder to say or pronounce, you guys would get tired of seeing that name. So, I put quite a bit more thought into it than you guys originally thought.**

Umed sat with his back against the wall furthest from the barred cell door. He was never able to take his mind off of Peter. Was he okay? Had they been able to save him? Would he remember their reunion? Was he even still alive?

Sitting in this dreaded cell was a worse torture then _any_ of the atrocities he'd seen since the time of his capture. His brothers life was in danger and _he_ was accused of bringing this threat upon him. Umed could _never_ hurt his brother. Couldn't they see that he had tried to help Peter?

Umed let his head fall back against the cold wall, his hood giving little cushion between himself and the hard stone. This dungeon had never seemed so gloomy before. Umed had always thought that Cair Paravel's dungeons were brighter and more cheery than most, but then again, he'd never been on this side of the bars before.

"Hello?"

Umed's heart skipped a beat. He would recognize that voice anywhere. His heart told him to call back, to reveal himself to her, but he couldn't do that to his dear sister. His fate did not lay in Cair Paravel. They were bound to find out the truth about the poison, and when they did, Umed would be released only to be taken back to Calormen in slavery. Perhaps it was best to stay in this cell, even if it _was_ torture.

"Hello?" Susan called again. Umed lowered his his head when he saw Susan's feet stand before his cell, "You're the slave boy."

He continued his parade of silence.

"You poisoned my brother." Susan's voice was accusing, but somehow, still gentle.

Umed couldn't stay silent after that accusation. He had nothing to do with the attempt on Peter's life, "I did not." Not for the first time, Umed thanked Aslan for his rasp. It made his voice harder to recognize.

"If you did not, then who did?"

Umed shook his head, "I don't know. We were together when he fell ill. I tried to help him; I even called for help when I noticed he was sick. It must have been one of my master's goons. I would _never_ do such a thing."

"Why would _you_ be alone with _him_?"

Umed had never felt Susan be so cold to him. He didn't like this side of her one bit, "He wanted to talk."

"About what?" Susan's voice was starting to get more and more impatient.

"I... saved his life. He brought me to his study to thank me."

"How can you expect me to believe _that_?" Umed had to keep himself from cringing at the sudden sting in her voice.

"He saved me." Umed swallowed the saliva built up in his mouth, "I met him in the gardens. I was found by one of my masters. He may have killed me if Pete- if His Majesty didn't step in." Umed relaxed a little when realized that Susan didn't notice his little fumble, or at least didn't think anything of it.

"If you were trying to save him, then who was trying to kill him?"

Umed shook his head, "We were given orders by our masters to poison his drink. We _had_ to obey, but I told him not to drink it. I defied my masters and risked my life."

For some time, Susan didn't answer. Umed almost decided to look up to see if she was even still there. He didn't need to though, because she soon spoke again, "I want to believe you, but I'm afraid there's no proof to support your claim. Only the king himself can save you."

Umed was suddenly reminded of the knot in his stomach - the torture he'd been going through since he was taken from Peter, "Is the king alright? Could they heal him?" Umed lifted his head just enough to indicate his curiosity, but he couldn't allow Susan to see his face.

"We believe that he will make a full recovery. Why is it that you seem so concerned about my brother's well being?"

"I may live in Calormen, but I didn't used to. I care about Narnia _and_ her well-being." _More then you know._ He wanted to add. Umed lowered his head again. He'd assumed that their talk was over and that Susan would leave, but she stayed.

"Why don't you lower your hood?"

"I... I couldn't. I'm not allowed."

"Why not? I would very much like to see who I'm taking to." Susan's voice had turned to a kinder tone, but she still exhibited authority.

"It's disrespectful to my masters."

"I am not your master."

"You are royalty, which makes you my master. I shall not lower my hood in the presence of royalty." Umed wanted so bad to look up to Susan and tell her who he was, but he knew that it was better for all of them if he remained unknown. It was _so_ hard to keep himself from standing and walking to meet her. It was torture, but he had to conceal himself. No matter how badly it tortured him, Umed would _not_ allow himself to be discovered. Peter would recover and help him regain his freedom. He could be freed and _then_ he could show her who he was, but he couldn't make her go through the pain of losing him again.

"I guess, then, there is nothing more to say." Susan said, breaking the silence.

"There is not." Umed felt a knot in his stomach at the coldness of his own voice. He had let her go on to believe that he didn't care about her, that he wanted her gone, but nothing was further from the truth. His heart sank in sadness as he heard the patter of her feet receding from his cell. He listened to them in silence until he could hear them no longer.

That's when he let the tears flow.


	15. Secrets

**You guys are doing AWESOME with reviews! Please, keep them up!**

 **Since I didn't get a chapter out yesterday, this one is a tad bit longer. I feel as though I'm expected to update every day, but it's not always gonna happen. Thank you for your patience.**

 _"Ed?"_

 _Peter peeked his head in through the door to his brother's bedroom. He hadn't seen Edmund since he left their coronation yesterday, and he was concerned about his little brother_

 _"Not now, Pete." Edmund's voice replied, "I'm busy."_

 _"Now, what," Peter began as he entered the room, against Edmund's wishes, "could keep you so busy that you would miss breakfast_ and _lunch, today?"_

 _Edmund was sitting in the corner of the room with his knees drawn up to his chest. He refused to meet Peter's eyes as the king crossed the distance between them and sat down beside him. Edmund continued to ignore him, but Peter wasn't done with him yet._

 _"Something is bothering you, isn't it?"_

 _"Susan talked to you."_

 _Peter gave a small shrug, "She may have mentioned something, but I think anybody could see that sour look on your face, and know." At the scowl Edmund shot him, Peter quickly continued, "But it was_ my _idea to come see you."_

 _Edmund turned his face away, "You never_ used _to want to see me. Not before Narnia._

Before _Narnia, I didn't realize what I had. I've changed since then, and I think you have too; in fa_ _ct,_ _I_ know _you have changed. You're not that_ dreadful _boy I knew before the wardrobe." Peter teased, though his smile faded when Edmund continued to keep his head turned away._

 _"I thought you were mad at me."_

 _Peter's brows knit in confusion, "Why would I be mad at you?"_

 _"After I... betrayed you, you were... upset with me."_

 _"Ed, that is_ over _. I may have been upset, but that was before Aslan helped me realize what I almost lost. I thought we had cleared this up at Beruna."_

 _Edmund shook his head, and would still not look him in the eyes, "I almost died, Pete. You would have hugged Eustace Clarence Scrubb if he were just brought back from near death."_

 _Peter thought about that a moment. The battle was merely a couple weeks ago. Had_ _Edmund_ really _been dealing with this for_ that _long? Peter supposed that they'd barely had two words together since the battle. He'd always been rather oblivious. Susan mentioned Edmund's odd behavior several times on the way to Cair Paravel, but Peter had never noticed anything wrong. He just assumed that it was the aftermath of the battle that set him off. The day before their coronation, everybody was so busy preparing that Edmund sort of got lost in the fray. Of course, Peter believed everything was_ perfect _at the coronation, itself. Edmund acted entirely normal, though Peter supposed that his brother_ did _enjoy parties. It gave Edmund a chance to be someone else for a bit. Typical Ed - always looking to be something he's not. Though that's one thing Peter was noticing that was beginning to change._

 _But h_ _ad Peter really been so naive?_

 _"Ed, I'm so sorry." Peter shook his head at his own stupidity, "I've been such a fool."_

 _"What else is new?" Edmund's voice held no humor as he says the words._

 _"I mean it." Peter said, "Look at me, Ed."_

 _Edmund slowly turned his head to face Peter, his chestnut eyes rising to meet_ his _blue ones, "What?"_

 _"I shouldn't have assumed that because I gave you a hug everything would be right between us. I've wronged_ you _, not you_ _me_ _. This is_ my _fault." Peter gave a deep sigh, "I must admit that I was never very fond of you. I_ was _mad at you when you came back. I wasn't sure how to forgive you, but... when I saw you fall... in Beruna, I_ _thought_ _I'd lost you. Just the_ idea _that you'd be gone forever was enough to break through my thick head. I couldn't hold_ anything _against you - not when it was_ my _fault that you even_ considered _siding with the witch. I've been cold to you growing up. I expected you to treat me as the man of the house when you weren't ready for dad to be gone. I was hard on you when you were just trying to adjust. It wasn't fair and I had no right... no right for_ anything _I did to you."_

 _Silence followed Peter's words. He couldn't decide if it was uncomfortable or calming, but either way, it didn't disturb him. Perhaps a few moments of silence was what they needed right now, after all the commotion of the past weeks since they entered Narnia._

 _"You've always been a bit of pain."_ _Peter looked to his brother, once more, to see a small smile at the corners of his mouth._

 _Peter smiled back, "I'll let that slide... but just this once." He let his smile drop and his voice became serious, "I have no right to ask it of you, but I beg you to give me your forgiveness."_

 _Edmund nodded, happily, "You're my brother, Pete. Of course I forgive you."_

"Ed!"

Peter sat straight up and breathed in, heavily. His eyes darted around him to see where he could be. He recognized this room immediately; he'd been here many times before. The tall shelves, the cleaning bowls and the bright sheets were all clear attributes to the healing quarters. It wasn't until his hearing finally kicked in that he noticed Iason standing before him.

"How are you feeling, Sire?" The master said.

"Where's Ed?"

The healer gave a look - confusion, sadness, maybe - and turned to look behind him. It was then that Peter first saw Susan. She looked exasperated and sad.

"Where is he?" Peter asked again. He clearly remembered meeting Edmund before he blacked out.

Susan moved to kneel by his bedside, "Peter," She began, "Edmund's not here. He's gone, remember?"

"He's not. I just saw him."

 _'You can't tell them_ anything' Peter suddenly remembered. They wouldn't know that Edmund was alive. He's keeping it a secret.

"You must have been dreaming, Peter. Edmund isn't coming back." The sadness in Susan's eyes was enough to make _him_ almost believe it.

"Yes... of course. A dream. How silly of me." Peter pretended to conclude, "I was... poisoned?"

Susan nodded, "We thought it was the slave boy with you, but we can't prove anything."

"It was _not_ the boy!" Peter snapped, mostly out of anger that anyone should accuse Edmund of such a thing, "What did you do to him?"

"He's in the dungeons. I can have him released by your command." Susan gestured for Ziddim who, Peter just realized, was standing in silence in the corner.

The wolf stepped forward and bowed, ready for his command, "Your Majesty."

"No... not yet. I wish to speak with him once I am fully recovered."

"Shall I begin the hunt for your assassin, Sire?" The large wolf asked.

"I don't think you shall have to look far, Captain. I believe our _guest_ is trying to have me killed." Peter thought about what to do for a moment, "Ziddim, slow down the stocking of the goods we are lending to King Judas. Prolong him another day or two."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Ziddim bowed and turned, leaving the room.

"I spoke with the boy." Susan said, once Ziddim had left.

Peter met her eyes, "You _spoke_ with him? What did he say to you?"

"He told me that you had brought him there to thank him." Susan gave him an expectant look.

Peter was afraid to ask, "Did he say what for?"

"Yes."

Peter hung his head, "I'm so sorry, Susan. I was going to tell you, I promise; I just... couldn't yet."

"How long were you planning to keep this from me? I could have lost you and never known what from."

The High King shook his head, "I never meant to hurt you; I just wanted to keep you out of this. I didn't want you to worry."

"By not wanting me to worry, you nearly gave me a heart attack. We're family, Peter, we don't keep secrets." Peter could tell that Susan was _very_ upset.

"I'm sorry. Really,I am. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Susan gave a deep, exasperated sigh, "No more secrets, then?"

Peter almost flinched. There was _one_ secret he couldn't tell her. He'd sworn he wouldn't. If Edmund had wanted her to know he was alive, he would have told her himself.

" _Peter_!"

Peter realized that he must have hesitated when he entered his realm of thought.

"What?"

"You're still keeping something from me. What is it?" Susan's eyes were enough to tell him how upset she was. He'd just gotten her to come around, now he had to keep _another_ thing from her _with_ her knowledge of it.

"I... can't tell you. I promised I wouldn't."

Susan scoffed, "What kind of brother would you be if you kept such secrets from your siblings?"

 _What kind of brother would I be if I broke a promise to a sibling?_ Was what he wanted to say, but he simply, remained silent.

Susan glared at him, "That's the way you want to be, then?" She rose from her place on the ground and turned to leave.

"Susan, I'm sorry!" Peter called after her, but she was already gone.


	16. Suspicions

**Not sure how much I'll be able to update with Thanksgiving coming up. I'll try to get some chapters published, but I don't know how many. If I don't update tomorrow, then Happy Thanksgiving!**

Peter had taken his leave of the healing quarters as soon as he was declared healthy. It had been a mere day since the attempt on his life, but he was a quick healer. Lucy's cordial would have helped to have been out by yesterday, but it was difficult to say whether it would work for poison. The cordial only works to cure injuries; it can't clear the bloodstream of poison, but it can mend some of the affects caused by it.

The dungeon's door cane into view and Peter was greeted by the guard, Zakai, with a bow, "Your Majesty."

Zakai used to be part of Edmund's guard, but he was moved to prison duty a couple weeks ago because of his thievery of Narnian weapons, from the vault. Zakai had been a respectful guard, for the most part, but he definitely had his own morals.

Peter stood a little higher, "I would like to visit a prisoner."

"If you're here for that boy, Sire, he's in cell number four." The minotaur said.

Peter nodded and, without a word, passed by into the dungeons. He walked down the rows as far as Zakai had said and stopped. If he hadn't been told so, Peter wouldn't have thought there wasn't anybody in the cell. It was dark inside and completely silent. He had to squint his eyes to see the figure sitting in the dark against the opposite wall. The figure had his head leaned back against the stone. Peter could see only Edmund's chin and his lips underneath the dark hood.

"Ed?"

Edmund's head snapped upwards, his hood falling back and eyes meeting Peter's, "Peter?" He stood and scrambled up to the bars, grabbing hold and peering through at him, "You're okay?"

Peter smiled at his brother's concern, "I'm fine, Ed. It was nothing to be worried about."

Edmund's face contained _none_ of the humor that Peter held in his eyes, "You were _poisoned_! Of course I was worried! You're going to have to be more careful, now. This is the _second_ time your life has been put in danger; something tells me that they will not fail again."

"I'm going to be on my guard this time. Only my most trusted subjects will be allowed to even be _near_ my food."

Edmund sighed, "It's not just the food. What if they try something else?"

"Then my guards would stop them. I'm perfectly safe."

"Peter," Edmund began, "I'm not sure of it, but I think that there may be a traitor in the guard."

"A traitor? What do you mean?"

Narnia's guard was made up of the most _loyal_ soldiers in the land. Any creature that showed any signs of disloyalty or scandal was either removed or demoted to a lesser post, so it seemed very troubling to consider that one of them might be plotting against their rulers and fraternizing with the enemy.

"I'd first begun to have my suspicions when Judas received his invitation here."

Peter furrowed his blonde eyebrows, "I _didn't_ invite him."

"That's what I mean. I knew _you_ wouldn't, and Susan and Lucy despise the man. I recall him saying that he may have an unexpected ally. I couldn't think of anybody that would have the power to send out letters to a _king_ that wasn't in the guard." Edmund concluded, "It was when you fell ill that it was brought back to my attention. Whoever it is, must be the one who poisoned you. Any Calormene wouldn't be allowed near your drink."

"You're right, Ed. And it must be someone from the _Royal_ Guard, no less. Anybody lower than that wouldn't have the power to send to kings. Do you know what raven sent it?"

Edmund shook his head, "I had never seen it before. I believe it was unintelligent."

"Of course it was. Whoever it is is smart enough to know as much."

"Susan used to spend time with some of the soldiers in archery. Perhaps _she_ might have an idea on who it is."

Peter inwardly groaned and rubbed his neck, "Yeah, about that."

Edmund gave him 'the look', "What happened?"

"Well, She was upset that I didn't tell her about the _first_ poisoning attempt. When I finally got her to come around, she found out that I was keeping something else from her."

"And what's that?"

Peter looked him straight in the eyes, " _You_... I refused to tell her that you're alive, and then she left. I don't think she'll want to talk."

"Pete, you're gonna have to talk to her. Either that, or find a way to do it without her and _fast_. The traitor won't wait forever."

This was going to be harder than he thought. When Susan held a grudge, she held it for a _long_ time. She wouldn't give him a chance a to speak until he apologized, and he couldn't apologize without telling her his secret. He would have to find another way.

"And what about me?" Edmund's voice broke Peter out of his thoughts.

"Uh... I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Once you are able to find the _real_ culprit, you won't be allowed to keep me here anymore. Judas will come for me and I'll not see you again." Edmund sounded so helpless. It broke Peter's heart to see him this way. Edmund was always the optimistic one of them both. He always knew what to say... until now, that is.

"No." Peter said in the most confident voice he could muster, "I will _not_ let that happen. I'm not going to lose you. Not again. I've spent so much time letting myself waste away, that I've overlooked the needs and problems of my people. I let you get taken. I thought I'd lost you, Ed. It hurt the worst because we parted with angry words. I wished every day that I could take them back and apologize. Now that you're here, it seems surreal."

Edmund furrowed his brow, "What angry words?"

Peter matched his little brother's look, "We had a fight before you left. I was upset that you had entered the Western Wood with no guard. Don't you remember?"

"Pete," Edmund began, "I was _always_ doing things that deserved a scolding. I could never hold anything against you when I deserved what I got."

"I thought that my last memory of you would be the two of us fighting. I should have just let you have it your way."

Edmund snickered, "And what kind of brother would you be if you let me go into danger with no one to defend me? It's your _job_ to protect us, remember?"

"And what a _great_ _job_ I'm doing at it." Peter said in a sarcastic tone.

"You _are_." Peter's little brother began, "You couldn't have known what would happen. It was supposed to be routine and something went wrong."

"That's not the way I felt when they brought your body back. Or what we believed was your body." Peter thought for a moment, "Whose body was brought back if you're still alive?"

Edmund glanced away, as if remembering a sad, distant memory, "It's a long story."

"I've got time."


	17. Captives

**So, according to some clear desires to know Edmund's story, this chapter is purely flashback as well as the next chapter. Hope you guys approve of my answers to your questions.**

It was dark - pitch black, to be precise. The company had been walking almost that whole day. They'd passed through some various small towns, but stayed close to the Calormene border. They'd only need to stop to collect some rations for the military caravan.

The conquest was purely a demonstration of power and was to be strictly routine; no detours were allowed and they were, by no means, to attack another group unless they were set upon first. No confrontation was expected. That's why Edmund was startled to hear the first of the shouts.

"We're under attack! Draw your arms!" A voice called; it sounded like Ziddim, but Edmund couldn't be sure. It wasn't until the wolf pushed through the crowds and stood beside him that he knew he heard correctly.

Those who actually _had_ arms drew their weapons, looking about for their seemingly invisible attackers. Edmund could see no sign of any intruders, but remained on his feet, nonetheless; Ziddim was a well trained warrior, and he would not give warning of an intruder unless there really _was_ one.

"Get behind me, Your Majesty." Ziddim ordered. He growled ferociously at the darkness.

"I will not." Edmund defied. He knew that Ziddim was just trying to protect him, but it was Edmund's job to protect his subjects, and he couldn't do that while he was being guarded like a fragile vase in a troll cave, "I will fight with my soldiers."

The wolf have only a slight movement of the head toward Edmund, "As you wish, Sire, but if we are overrun, I must ask that you leave with a group of soldiers. Your life is more valuable than those of all the creatures here, combined."

"My life is only as good as what I make it worth. I won't do much good at all running away, now would I, Captain?" Edmund knew that Ziddim was just being logical, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his soldiers to die. No matter, though. It wouldn't come to that. It couldn't.

"Sire, I can't say I agree with your reasoning, but I am not one who can order you around; I can only suggest your best course of action." Edmund admired Ziddim's compliance. He was never afraid to voice his opinion, but was always ready to back down when Edmund challenged it. That sort of obedience is what Narnia needed in her guard.

Ziddim growled even louder this time, indicating that whoever was out there had drawn nearer. Edmund clutched the hilt of his sword more tightly.

Then, he heard it - a slight footfall to his left. Edmund whirled to face the sound, just in time to block a deadly blow aimed at his head. His attacker backed off a moment, giving Edmund a clear view of his large hat and his scimitar, which the man had just used to attack him with.

Calormen

A few shouts to his right caused him to look that way and see one of his soldiers fall to the blade. This was the first time he became aware of the battle raging around him. There must have been fifty Calormen in their section alone. Edmund's company was much larger, but the soldiers at the back wouldn't know there was danger at all, for a few more minutes. Hopefully they could hold out that long.

Edmund was brought back to the battle when the Calormene struck again. He lunged his scimitar at Edmund's middle, but it was easily dodged. The two of them exchanged a few more blows until Edmund found his opening and sunk his sword into the man's abdomen. He cried out and fell to the ground.

The Just King had ended several more lives, before he got a chance to look around him.

"King Edmund!" Ziddim's voice called. It was then that Edmund realized what was happening. The Calormen had separated the company into two groups: the main group and a smaller group of about eight to nine Narnians. Edmund was in the latter group. He'd seen this done many times before, and he knew from experience that he did _not_ want to be in the smaller group.

Edmund fought hard to break through the wall of Calormen, but it seemed almost impenetrable. There were way more Calormen than Narnians in the smaller groups and Edmund's soldiers were getting slaughtered trying to protect him. The number soon dropped from nine to eight, then eight to seven, then seven to six. There was only one option left.

"Ziddim!" He shouted, "Fall back! Regroup and trace back to find us!"

Edmund couldn't see his captain over the sea of men and creatures, but he could tell there was hesitation. Then an answer came, "As you wish, Your Majesty." Ziddim gave a mighty howl, and the Narnian creatures began to fall away from the Calormen, but their attackers did not follow.

Edmund turned to the five Narnians left in his group. They were surrounded by the Calormen and all looked to Edmund for guidance. All he could do was sadly cast his eyes down and raise his hand, dropping his sword to the ground. The clatter of weapons told Edmund that his command had been followed. It wasn't seconds later that his arms were grabbed and pulled behind him. His wrists were forced together and a course rope was secured around them.

No torches were there to light the path they took. No lightness shined on their road, ahead.

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

An hour of walking had the group at a small clearing in some dense, dry woods. Surely nothing grew to its full potential in this blistering hot place. Lights in the far off distance told Edmund that they were inside Calormen.

Edmund felt a blade push against his back. Luckily, he had some light armour to somewhat shield him; though Edmund doubted he would be so grateful once they were in the light and his captors recognized his family crest and the markings of the Just King.

It relieved Edmund to see that he was being forced to a darker part of the camp, away from the glowing fire. Edmund was forced into a large cage, along with his soldiers. Once sat down, the Calormene directing him saw fit to cut his bonds. The man left and locked the door, giving Edmund the chance look around him. He was in with a group of people, mostly human, aside from the Narnians (a couple fauns, a minataur, a cheetah and a tiger) captured with him. He could barely look at their sullen, broken faces without matching their expression, so instead, he looked away.

"You... you are Narnians." Whispered a quiet voice. Edmund felt a presence beside him.

The king looked over and was met with another pair of dark eyes, "Yes, we are." He answered, "And you are?"

Edmund studied this new character. His dark hair nearly covered his eyes and he looked to be about Edmund's own age, though he could be a year or so younger. The clothes gave no indication of his heritage, they were but rags, just large enough to cover his skinny form. Edmund had to guess Archlandish or Terebinthian.

"I am from Archland." The boy said. With how pathetic he looked, he sure seemed to hold a lot of spirit. "You're really from Narnia?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's incredible! We never see any Narnians around here, especially not for the reasons you are here, now."

"And why am I here now? Who are these people?" Edmund inquired.

The boy gave him a curious look, "Of course, they are Calormen slave traders."

Oh, no. Slave traders? "And you, what's your name?"

"My name is Zebah. I've been a slave for five years, now. My master decided I was old enough to be sent to a new home, so here I am, searching for a new home." It sickened Edmund that he could say it so matter-of-factly, like it was _normal_ , "What's _your_ name?"

"Edmund." The name slipped without him even thinking. This was not good. The last Edmund wanted was for his identity to be discovered.

"Narnia has a king named Edmund, do they not? King Edmund the Just. We all have heard of _him_. He is forgiven by Aslan." Edmund had to hand it to Zebah; he certainly knew his history.

"Yes." Edmund began to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt.

"It must be quite an honor to have his name. It must mean a lot."

"It only means what I make it mean - what Aslan makes it mean. I've done nothing important." Edmund supposed that Zebah would know his identity, come the morning. Trying to hide it now would be pointless. He downcast his eyes.

"That can't surely be true. All of us do _something_ important in our lives. I am a slave and even _I've_ done something important."

"What did you do?"

Zebah took a moment to answer. Edmund could picture the smile he surely had on his face, "I lived free, once. _That_ was important. If I never do anything else, I'll at least have that. It is my dream to one day be free again. I believe it will happen. I believe Aslan will help me."

Edmund felt suddenly guilty. This boy was as old as he was, yet he had littler than nothing to call his own. His life had been stolen from him, yet he still remained happy. He looked at all the good he had, even if there was so little to find.

"Your armor," Zebah inspected the intricate design, "It's different from the others. What do these markings mean?"

Edmund hesitated a moment. Should he really tell the boy? He couldn't see the harm. Perhaps it would help give Zebah some joy, _real_ joy, to meet a king of Narnia.; after all, the boy seemed very fixed on Narnia, "It means... that I'm a king."


	18. Free

**Hope you guys liked my last chapter! Didn't get a whole lot of feedback, but I expect that to change.**

 **This chapter is all backstory. I'm thinking that the next may be, too. This chapter ended up longer than I thought, so I'm extending the backstory.**

 **I think this story may end up being the longest I've ever written.**

"You're... you're King Edmund?" Zebah's eyes flashed with excitement, "You're him?"

"Quiet," Edmund shushed, "You don't want to let the whole camp know."

"Right." Zebah's smile vanished in an instance, "Whatever are you going to do? They will surely recognize you once the sun sheds on your armor. They will know."

"I don't know. Is it enough to hope that they will be stupid enough not to check our armor once we take it off?" It wasn't much, but at least it wasn't a big red arrow pointing to him saying 'here's the king of Narnia.'

Zebah gave a pained look, "I doubt they would be so careless as to get rid of perfectly good armor, but it's worth a shot."

Edmund unstrapped the belts that held his armor in place. He pulled of each little piece of armor off until he wore only his tunic and trousers and boots. It wasn't much for protection, but Edmund figured they would take the armor from him, anyways.

The other Narnians followed Edmund's lead, and stripped themselves of their armor. The metal clanged as the various pieces of armor were thrown onto the pile.

"There." Edmund said with a hint of satisfaction.

Zebah smiled, "These Calormen are not very observant. With any luck, they won't know that you were ever brought in with the other Narnian prisoners. You can't keep that name, though. Not if you're to survive here. You need something different, something Archlandish, maybe?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about Archland names. I know only those of your kings and queens." Edmund had never done much work with Archland. When he _did_ , it was only with the king and with Peter leading negotiations.

"I know!" Zebah beamed with the joy of his new idea, "I shall call you Umed."

"Umed?"

"Yes. Umed." The boy smiled, "It means hope."

"Hope?" Edmund wasn't sure why he needed a name with such meaning. Any old name would do fine for him.

"You are my hope, Umed. You have come here for a reason that only Aslan knows. I am proud to be a part of His plan. Aslan has never seemed so close before; He was always a sort of distant dream that one can continue to wish for it to come true, but it always remains just out of reach. A dream that I wished to dream every night - the good sort of dream that helps you wake with a new enthusiasm for the coming day. Now, that day has come. I shall be willing for whatever Aslan asks of me."

Zebah was _truly_ special boy. It eluded Edmund as to how Aslan could possibly let this angel stay in captivity for so long. He had the most willing heart Edmund had ever seen, and his eyes didn't contain the emptiness that a slave's eyes normally contained; in fact, he seemed to contain more life inside him than Edmund had seen in any one of his subjects and any of his friends - sort of like Lucy, he supposed. They would make good friends if they had ever got to meet.

"What is Aslan like?" Zebah wondered to Edmund, bringing the king back to the moment.

At first, he said nothing, for _everything_ had come to his mind at once. The name of Aslan triggered many fond memories. Edmund wasn't sure that they would have enough time for him to explain the Great Lion. Was there any explaining Him at _all_? He could try his best, but Edmund knew he would never do Aslan justice with his words - or anything else, for that matter.

"Aslan... Aslan is _everything_ He is said to be and more. No history books would _ever_ be able to put His magnificence on paper. He is kind, but disciplinary. He is merciful, yet just. He is beauty, yet might. He is strong, yet tender. He is peace, yet he is power. Aslan never does what we think should be done, but what _He_ knows is best for us all. There's no way to describe Him in such few words. Everything He does is a mystery, yet you can't help but feel your heart melt when He says your name, when He calls you His child."

Zebah gave him a troubled look, "Am _I_ His child?"

"Zebah," Edmund began, "I've only just met you, but I could tell from the moment we began to speak that you are different. You behave in a way that shows me that you belong to _Him_. You speak of Him with such fondness and love, even though you've never even seen Him. Your faith in Him exceeds that of the High King himself. Everything you've said has told me that you live only for Him, and you are joyful. If that doesn't make you His child, then I don't know what does."

Zebah's face lit up, "Do... you think He would be proud of me?"

Edmund smiled fondly at him, "I don't think He could be more proud to call you His son."

The boy smiled, "Could you... tell me more about Narnia?"

Edmund returned the smile, "Of course."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Edmund couldn't remember falling asleep, but he clearly must have, for he woke with the stinging sunlight biting at his eyes. It seemed like so long since he'd last seen the sun, but it was no more than half a day ago, at most

The Just King found it most comfortable to just continue laying on the bottom of the caged floor. His muscles ached from sitting up against hard bars half of the night while talking with Zebah _and_ from the battle they'd had the previous night.

Zebah had been most intrigued by the stories Edmund told. He spoke of the days just after entering Narnia and about all the expeditions he and Peter had been on over the course of the years after Beruna. He was beginning to get a bit homesick while telling of all his fond memories, but he couldn't stop while Zebah gave him the look that he did.

Zebah gave small bits about what he remembered of his family in Archland, but it wasn't much. He remembered his home town and the name of his mother, but not much else..He remembered that his mother was with child when he was captured all those years ago, but he never knew if it was a boy or a girl or even what they planned to name it.

Edmund and Zebah had not stopped sharing stories until Zebah lay fast asleep beside him, curled into a ball. The king appreciated that the boy didn't _treat_ him as royalty. He never cared for the fancy title or special attention, and it _certainly_ wouldn't help in his current situation.

It seemed rather odd that just yesterday, Edmund was a king, but now, he was reduced to a lowly slave - or at least he would be, soon. If Ziddim didn't show up before too long, then he was as good as a slave already.

 _Aslan speed to you, Captain._

"Hey!"

Edmund was alerted by a voice from outside the cage. He sat up, ignoring the protest of his sore body. The rest of the captives joined in his alarm and sat up as well, some of them moving to the back of the cage to get further from the Calormene standing outside the locked door. Zebah still sat beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Which one of you owns this breastplate?"

Edmund saw his piece of armor lifted before them. His breath hitched in his throat and he looked to Zebah. Zebah gave him a troubled look, his brown eyes looking back with worry.

"Well? If nobody confesses soon, I'll have to see that one of these little fauns gets their legs broken. We all know how useful a slave with broken legs is."

The voice drew both sets of eyes back to the Calormene. There was a moment's hesitation, and the Calormene moved to open the door. Edmund opened his mouth to confess the truth.

"It's my armor." Was what Edmund was going to say, but he never got to saying it. He heard it said though, so, if it didn't come from _his_ mouth, then-

Edmund snapped his head to Zebah. Zebah stared at the Calormene and barely gave Edmund a glance. What was he _doing_?

"It belongs to me." Zebah said, confirming that Edmund had, indeed, heard correctly.

"I-" Edmund began, but he was cut off.

"Well, then, it would appear we have _royalty_ in our midst." The Calormene dropped the breastplate and unlocked the door.

"Zebah!" Edmund said in an aggressive whisper.

"I _know_ what Aslan has asked of me." Edmund just stared in shock, "You are my hope, Umed. This is all there is for me here. You're not done yet."

"Zebah." Was all Edmund could get out of his choked up throat.

"This is _my_ choice and Aslan's will." Zebah smiled at him, "I know what I'm supposed to do."

"No, no, no... you _can't_."

The Calormene pulled Zebah up by the arms, "I'm free, now, Umed. I'm free."


	19. Together

The knot in Edmund's stomach never left. He held in inside even when he and the rest of the prisoners were moved out. Their hands were tied in front of them and each had a rope around their neck which connected them in a long line. Edmund was tied at the back of that line. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad. He didn't have to worry about anyone behind him stumbling or stepping on his feet, but he was closer to the slavers and the target of their tauntings.

Edmund's grief was too great to think of anything else. He didn't know Zebah well, but the boy had so much going for him. He was unlike anyone Edmund had ever known. Given the chance, the two of them may have been great friends one day... but Zebah's life had been cut short. The brightest star in a sky of dimming lights snuffed out in place of another. Edmund had heard the screams. Thank Aslan he didn't have to see what they did to him, but his heart had shattered when one scream was cut short and a sickening silence followed.

Why Aslan let something so horrible happen to a boy who was all but an angel, was a mystery to Edmund. _He_ deserved to be the one whose screams were heard. _He_ deserved to be the one lying alone and dead on the ground, far away from friends and family.

"Slave scum." One particular Calormene prodded Edmund with the tip of his sword. "You soft or something?"

Edmund refused to look up. "He didn't deserve to die."

"What do you know? That slime was a nuisance to our country. His family will thank us for ending the life of that traitor."

Edmund said nothing to reply. The words hurt, yes, but not as much as the knowledge that he caused the death of someone as innocent as Zebah.

"No matter." The slaver said, "You'll be someone else's problem by the end of the day."

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The market was bustling with Calormen of all shapes and sizes. No pitying looks were given to the state of the slaves, rather most of the men seemed intrigued by him. They seemed to be inspecting him, deciding whether he was something they'd want to spend their money on. It sickened Edmund. Slaves were people just like they were. Edmund was a _king_ even.

One man in particular seemed to take a shine to him. While they were waiting by the auction platform, the Calormene had walked up to him. He grabbed Edmund by the jaw and turned his head from side to side. Once the man let go, he grabbed Edmund's arm and squeezed it. He then moved to Edmund's back and lifted his shirt, probably checking for scarring.

"This one hasn't got any discipline marks." The man said to one of the slavers.

"Must be new. Hard to keep track of all the slaves we bring in."

"Is he trouble?"

The slaver shook his hatted head, "Hasn't given _us_ any trouble."

"Well, if he decides to give _me_ any trouble, I'll just have to show him his place."

"Hold it." A new man said.

Both buyer and slaver turned to the new speaker, "Lord Tisroc. King Judas." The men bowed low. The King was surrounded by members of his guard.

"How may I serve you?" The slaver asked.

"I want five of your best slaves. I want them ready to set out in ten minutes."

"But, Tisroc, the auction is to start within the hour. You may choose your slaves there, if you like."

King Judas shook his head, "I will pay you their worth. Get them ready to leave immediately."

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"Oh, Ed, I'm so sorry." Peter sympathized.

Edmund shook his head. "It's not your fault. You thought I was dead. If I'd only known you weren't looking for me-"

"I never should have believed it. I _should_ have been looking for. I'm so, so sorry."

"I'm not mad at you. You were right to grieve for me. I was as good as dead before I knew we were coming here. There's no return from slavery; everybody knows it." Edmund lowered his head, but Peter grabbed his chin and lifted it back up.

"There _can_ be. There _will_ be. That's a promise. I already failed you once. I could never forgive myself if I let Judas walk away and you with him."

"You didn't fail me." Edmund assured, " _I'm_ the one who failed. It's _my_ fault. People _died_ because of my foolishness. _Zebah_ died."

"You seem really fond of this Zebah, but you couldn't have known him. You couldn't have known him well at all."

Edmund shook his head, "I didn't even know him for a whole day - hardly a whole night - but he was different. He was an Aslan send. He believed Aslan would set him free; he believed Aslan had a plan for him. Zebah said that I was his hope; that's why he sacrificed himself. I suppose he was right, in the end. Aslan _did_ set him free."

"Zebah was sent from Aslan. There was a reason that he sacrificed himself. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't know that you were to go much further than the confines of slavery. Aslan will set you free, but not the way he set Zebah free."

"Then _what_ are we supposed to do? I'm a _slave_ , and Aslan seems adamant on keeping it that way."

Peter grabbed him by the shoulders, "If Aslan is done with you, then what were you doing here? You are _precious_ to Him. He _died_ for you, just like Zebah did. Just because Aslan came came back doesn't make it any less of a sacrifice."

Edmund heaved a shaky sigh, "I know, I know... I just, don't know what to do."

Peter pulled Edmund closer and touched their foreheads together through the bars, "We'll figure it out. Aslan help us, we will set you free. We are much stronger together than we are apart, and that's how we'll fight this. We'll do it together."


	20. Strength

**Hey guys! Me again! Glad you are all enjoying my story so far. Happy to see that I've been getting some new followers. Please feel free to let me know what you think of my chapters in the reviews.**

 **If any of you are fans of the Hobbit, then you can check out my other stories. They are all finished and ready for reading.**

Susan sat on the bottom step of the stairs just outside the library. She wanted so badly to let herself cry, to let her eyes drip with tears of frustration. She couldn't understand why she was even upset anymore; she wasn't even all that bothered by Peter's refusal to answer. If her brother was keeping something else from her then it must be important. Peter was a fool sometimes, but he was a trustworthy fool... for the most part.

If Peter held a secret and even _told_ her that he did, then she trusted him to do the right thing. He would tell her in his own time; she would just have to be patient.

She truly wasn't mad at him. Susan supposed she was feeling more grief than anything. Her eyes shined with unshed tears and she didn't even know why. Perhaps it was because she had cut herself off from Peter unfairly. Perhaps it was because of the stress from the Calormen being here. Perhaps it was not being able to hear Lucy laugh anymore... Or perhaps it was because she missed her little brother so terribly.

Susan never gave herself time to grieve. She couldn't allow herself a moment to think of what her baby brother had been through. If Susan gave herself time to think, her mind would always turn back to Edmund. She never quite realized what she had until it was taken from her. With the loss of Edmund, she also lost her closeness to Lucy and Peter, as well. Their family was like a carefully threaded blanket; if you took one thread and decided to pluck it from the rest, the blanket would unravel into a messy heap on the floor. That's what they were now: a messy heap.

Time heals all wounds. Time heals all wounds. Well, time had come and gone. Where was the healing? Couldn't Aslan just take the pain away? The pain of searing loss. The pain of the sorrow that filled the empty place in her heart.

The greatest part her of loss was not that Edmund was dead - her little brother was held safely in the paws if the Great Lion himself - no, the greatest pain was how her life - how all their lives - changed without him.

The greatest pain was passing by his room and not seeing his dark hair peeking out from beneath the covers. The greatest pain was gathering for the monthly meetings with only two siblings instead of three. The greatest pain was the empty throne that sat dormant in the throne room. Yes, the greatest pain was continuing to live life, all the while seeing these things around her. The world moved in fast motion around her, but also, seemed to be standing still. Susan refused to let show how much it hurt.

Narnia was falling upon hard times with Edmund's loss. His duties were nearly all left undone - all those, but the ones that Oreius could attend to. The sixty day mourning period had come and left, but Narnia would continue to grieve. Edmund's own soldiers were finding it hard to train without him; some of them had to be suspended because their lack of concentration put their lives at risk.

It would be a long time before Narnia was back on her feet. Hopefully Aslan would help them recover before the _true_ danger set in.

"Hello, Stranger."

Susan regained herself and pushed the shine from her eyes. Then, she looked up into brown eyes. "Prince Agatone."

The prince smiled. "May I sit?" He gestured to the open spot on the stairs next to her.

"Absolutely." Susan scooted over to give him more room to sit.

Agatone sat beside her and straightened his back. "You seem upset. Is something bothering you?"

Susan gave a light chuckle. _Is something bothering me? Let me get back to you once I've made a list._ "Well, yes. I don't expect you to understand, though."

"I can try." Agatone offered, lightly.

"I can't imagine you would want to hear me go off ranting about my feelings... again." Susan looked down and occupied herself with picking the dirt from under her fingernails.

"If you think it would help, I would be willing to listen. I cannot promise I will understand, but I will try my best."

Susan smiled over at him. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She took a deep breath. "All these months I've been trying my best not to grieve. I miss my brother with all my heart. Not having him here is like not having a part of _myself_ here. I've never felt a pain like this before. I _want_ to cry. I want _so_ _bad_ to cry. My eyes sting with tears, but I cannot let them fall. I must be strong... for my people."

"And would grieving make you weak?"

"You think it would not? Tears are the sign of pain, and to feel pain is to be weak."

The prince smirked. "Quite the opposite, My Lady. The strongest people I know are the ones who feel the most pain. We cannot pretend that we don't grieve. If we didn't grieve, we wouldn't be human. It's natural to want to cry when you lose something - or someone - close to you. To pretend that you are not sad is to say you aren't mortal. I believe that it only separates you from your people further."

Susan contemplated his words. "I never thought of that before. I suppose you're right. Do you expect me to just cry in public, then?"

"Not at all, Mistress. Grieve in private, as long as you grieve; just don't hide your pain. Your people need _you_ , not some altered version of yourself that you believe is stronger. Let them see _you._ "

 **So, in the past chapters I've been hinting at how Susan feels. She wouldn't let herself grieve, so it built up inside of her. It really does happen. So, if she seemed a little unreasonable with Peter, now you know why.**

 **This is not a _new_ problem that has come forward, but one that has been building up for a while. **


	21. Chance-Medley

**So, last chapter was the twenty chapter mark! So thrilled to have made it this far already! How have you been liking it so far**

"Let them see _you._ "

The Gentle Queen smiled at him. "You're nothing like King Judas."

"He's properly called Tisroc, you know." Agatone tried to correct.

Calormene nobleman had nearly all given up on calling Judas by his proper title when in the presence of the Narnian rulers. For some reason unknown to them, the Kings and Queens of Narnia had taken to just calling him _King_ Judas. Judas had corrected them _many_ times, but eventually got tired of keeping of with them and just went along with it, even calling _himself_ King Judas, once in a while.

"Yes... of- of course." The Queen stuttered. "Sorry about that."

Agatone smiled at her embarrassment. "It's nothing, really. We are all used to it by now."

Queen Susan shook her head. "You shouldn't have to be. It's silly, really. When we were younger, Lucy didn't have any idea what a Tisroc was or who we were talking about. When we were around her, we'd just call him King Judas. I suppose it just stuck with us."

"I wish I had that closeness with my own siblings. You all seem to care so deeply for each other." Agatone had never seen a family so close; it wasn't natural to him.

"I suppose I never really considered it as a blessing before. I never took time to appreciate it. That was before... well, before...-"

"Before your loss?"

The Queen only nodded in reply. She turned her head away and her lip quivered slightly, but she didn't yet cry.

"I don't reckon I will have anyone to mourn _me_ so deeply whenever the Great Tash decides it's my time. King Edmund was very lucky. Even though his life was cut short, I know it was more full than mine will _ever_ be." Now it was _his_ time to mourn, mourn for his own future.

The Mistress looked over to him, once more. "You will rule one day, and, when you do, I believe you will find yourself making a world of difference. Calormen needs a king - sorry _\- Tisroc_ like you."

"I hope, then, that our ties will be rebuilt. When I am Tisroc, I will do all I can to make things right between our kingdoms."

The Gentle Queen smiled a tender smile, a beautiful smile. "You leave tomorrow, then?"

"That _was_ the plan, however, the stocking hasn't gone as we expected. We may need to stay a little bit longer than anticipated. Do you think the High King would be so agreeing?" It was the main concern of the Calormen travelers that High King Peter would be upset with them staying another day or two.

"I think he might be persuaded." The Queen gave a knowing look, as though she knew something he didn't. He wouldn't inquire. Surely their friendship hadn't gotten quite that far. He only wanted to help the Queen; inquiring after something so unimportant would not be helpful.

"I hope I may have been kind to Her Majesty?"

The Queen laughed lightly. "Most kind, indeed."

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After her talk with Agatone, Susan went to go find Peter. She visited the healing quarters first, but Iason told her that he'd been released. She had been rather upset at first, but gave the master healer grace. Peter was, after all, was the High King; it was nearly impossible to turn down one of his commands.

If Peter wasn't in heading rooms, then where could he be? Susan had decided to check his study and his room, but both came up empty. She took a quick look around the gardens, but the gardener had reported that he didn't recall seeing the High King that day.

Susan had checked all of places Peter liked to spend his time. She even checked the royal dining and throne rooms. Peter was nowhere to be found. Susan was starting to get concerned for his well-being. It was entirely possible that whoever had tried to poison him had either taken him captive or done away with him. She refused to believe either, though, without some definite proof.

There was only one more place she hadn't checked. The one place she had put off going to look until she had nowhere else to go: Edmund's grave.

Susan set off in a brisk walk down the stairs and out of the throne room. She passed by several guards on the way out who gave her respectful bows at her passing. She barely gave them a nod of acknowledgment as she drove herself on.

It didn't take long for her to maneuver out of the Cair walls and walk out onto the grass.

Susan was just feet away from the graveyard gates when she heard a call from behind her.

"Queen Susan!" It cried.

Susan turned around to see a curly headed faun running toward her.

"Nephtali." She said as he approached.

"My Queen." Nephtali panted, trying to gather his breath. "My Queen- I must- must speak with you."

Susan turned to face him fully, worry in her eyes. "Is Peter all right? I can't find him anywhere."

Nephtali straightened his stance and, once he had finally gained his breath, answered. "I have no idea where His Majesty is. I came on a different accord."

Susan sighed, whether in relief or anxiety, she didn't know. "Then why have you come?"

The faun seemed to become suddenly agitated. "Well... I- uh- I have a confession to make."

"A confession?" Susan asked. "Why would you come to _me_ about this rather than Peter?"

Nephtali cast his eyes down to his hoofed feet. "I didn't want him to get angry with me. I- I was afraid he might kill me. You. You are the Gentle Queen. I had hoped you would be more understanding."

Susan nodded. "What is this all about? What did you do?"

"I didn't _want_ to do it. He _made_ me do it. I was afraid that he would kill me. I had no choice; I _had_ to obey." The faun had tears running down his face and into his stubbly beard.

"Nephtali," Susan took a step closer to him. " _What_. did you. _do_?"

"I... I- I p-poisoned the King." The curly headed faun cowered before her, his lip quivering in fear. "I- I swear, I didn't want to do it. I love my King. I was just- I was _afraid_."

Susan nearly gasped at the horrifying news, but she needed more information. "Who, Nephtali? Who were you afraid of?"

Nephtali looked her straight in the eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. "It wa-" Susan saw a flash of red. The faun jolted, and his shaking stopped.

Only a small gasp passed his lips to finish his sentence. Nephtali fell to the earth before her, a red feathered arrow - a Narnian arrow - protruding from his back.


	22. Trust

**Starting to run low on reviews, guys. You've been doing great! Don't stop now!**

"High King Peter!" Zakai's voice sounded from the dungeon door, up the short climb of stairs.

Edmund pulled away from him; he pulled his hood up and shrunk back into the safety of the shadowy cell.

"High King Peter." The minotaur was now just feet away from Peter and coming to a stop.

Peter looked up to the pestering guard with annoyance in his eyes. "The whole kingdom has been looking for you. I'm told that the High Queen wishes your presence."

 _Great. Now I'm in for it._ "Did she say what for?"

"It's not quite clear, Sire. The other guards say that the kingdom is bustling with the word ' _murder_.'"

Peter felt his heart pang. _Murder?_ He's gone for no more than an hour and there's already been a murder? He was almost afraid to ask, "Did- did they say who?"

Zakai shook his shook his big, thick, furry head. "The word is that it was a faun. Impossible to say who, though. I suppose you'll find out once you get to taking with Her Majesty."

Peter said nothing to reply. He gave one longing look back toward his imprisoned brother; he only wished that he could have given a _proper_ goodbye before he had to leave. The hooded figure in the cell gave only a nod for Peter to leave. The smallest hint of a smile crept onto his face. That was all they had to say goodbye before Peter was gone.

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"Peter!" Susan exclaimed as Peter entered the throne room, escorted by Oreius. He lumbered up the stairs and stood before her. "Where have you been?"

Peter just shook his head in reply.

Oreius, clearly not seeing the defiance in his king, answered for him, bringing Susan's eyes to meet his. "We found him at the dungeons, Your Majesty."

The Queen looked back to her brother. "The _dungeons_? What on earth were you doing there?"

Peter, still, said nothing; he just glanced nervously around him. Susan had an idea, though. "It's that slave boy, isn't it?"

Susan could see from the look on Peter's face that she was correct in her guessing. "Oreius, a moment of privacy, please."

The great Centaur bowed and left the two of them alone.

Susan was the one to break the silence. "I don't see what's so special about that boy."

Peter didn't answer.

"It doesn't matter, though; he'll be released soon, anyways."

Her brother's eyes immediately met hers; they held a tint of fear in them. "What's happened?"

Susan closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh, then she looked back into Peter's fair face. "Nephtali is dead."

Peter's eyes changed from a look of fear to a look of shock. "Nephtali? Wh- what happened?"

Susan knew that Nephtali had been his faithful servant _an_ _d_ friend ever since he had begun his rule as High King. The faun had carried out his duties with an uncommon contentment; he always carried on in an orderly fashion and even offered to serve Peter things he had never asked for. He was the kind of faun that Narnia needed more of.

"Peter," Susan began. She knew this news would be hard for Peter to hear, but it needed to be heard. "Nephtali is the one who poisoned you."

Peter's mouth dropped into a gape. "He- _he_ poisoned me? He couldn't have. Nephtali- he was my friend."

Susan nodded. "He _told_ me he did. I don't think he wanted to, though." She stared off in thought. "He was _afraid_ of something. Nephtali said that somebody told him to do it. I believe there may have been a threat involved."

"Nephtali would _never_ attempt something like that willingly. Who threatened him? Who must I deal justice?"

It was so like Peter to want to jump in so quickly. He had been betrayed by Nephtali, yet he still wanted to punish the one who would dare threaten one of his friends, even if that friend was considered a traitor.

"I don't know, Peter. He was shot dead before he got a chance to tell me. Shot dead with one of our own arrows."

Peter just nodded and cast his eyes away.

"Why do I feel that you are not surprised?"

Her brother just sighed. "I... suspected a traitor. We thought it was someone in the guard, though I suppose Nephtali could have sent out the letter if he had access to my study."

Susan just stared at him in confusion. "Peter, you're not making any sense. What letter?"

Peter seemed to shake himself to his senses. "Of course- uh- well, Judas was invited here by someone not ourselves. I suppose it could have been Nephtali."

"Then who is 'we'?" Susan rose her right eyebrow. "Is there someone _else_ who thinks this, too?"

Peter looked stuck. It took him some time to answer her question; even then, it wasn't really an answer. "It's not important. It was all just speculation, before now, anyways."

Susan looked at her older brother, her rock, her king. "Your secret?"

Peter downcast his blue eyes to his boots. "Believe me, Su, I want more than _anything_ to tell you, but I _can't_."

Susan clasped Peter's cold hands in her own. "You know you can trust me, right? You can trust me with _anything_."

The King nodded his head slowly. "I trust you, Su. I wouldn't keep this from you if I didn't think it was for the best."

It frustrated Susan, but she knew he was right. She wanted _so_ badly to react the way she had before, but Peter didn't deserve that. She couldn't let her grief get the best of her, so she just nodded in understanding.

"Can you trust _me_ , Su?"

Susan looked up into Peter's piercing blue eyes, eyes that said more than words could _ever_ say. Everything in Susan's being wanted to scream out and demand he tell her, right away. She wanted to argue with him, and tell him that he was being unfair, that he was wrong to keep something from her, but she knew that Aslan wouldn't want that. Susan had to trust Peter to do the right thing. He would tell her on his own, when he was ready. Pushing for Peter to answer would only create a further rift between them than there already was. No. Pushing would be _most_ wrong.

 _Patience, Daughter. All will be revealed with time._ A voice said, though Susan knew it was only audible to her.

The great voice of Aslan was all Susan needed to get the words out. "I trust you, Peter."


	23. Machinations

**This chapter is based the day after Susan and Peter's talk.**

What was happening?

A traitor in the kingdom. Nephtali dead. Edmund behind bars. No. Not behind bars for long. Peter had no right to keep him locked up anymore; everybody knew that Nephtali was murdered, and soon, news would spread that _he_ was the one who poisoned the High King. The whole kingdom already knew that Peter had nearly died. Iason could be kept to secrecy, but not so much the other healers.

Edmund would be freed and Judas would take him away. The bonds of slavery would wither his brother away. He'd be just as lost to them as he was before Peter even knew he was alive.

They were hopeless to stop Judas. Peter was hopeless to save his little brother.

"Oh, Aslan, help me know what to do."

Edmund's room had never seemed so dark before. Peter liked to sit here when he had much to think over. All of his brother's belongings were right where he left them before he set off for his fateful journey. Nobody had had the heart to move anything. They all liked to have that feeling that Edmund was still with them.

"Surely it is not your will that my brother be taken back into slavery."

Tears threatened to break through Peter's eyes at the thought of all that Edmund had been put through, and for what? Why would Aslan let this happen? What was there to gain through all this pain?

 _Trust in me, My Son._

Peter almost jolted at the strong, tender voice that broke through his head.

"Aslan."

 _Peter_.

"Aslan, what am I supposed to do?"

 _Do nothing. Trust in me._

"But... how can I? If I do nothing, Edmund will be taken away."

 _And you do not trust I will take care of him?_

"Of- of course I do." Peter stuttered. Didn't he trust Aslan?

 _I have carried Edmund this far. I payed for him with my own blood; I will surely not forsake him, now._

"Aslan, Ican't let him leave. Edmund is _my_ responsibility. He's my brother. I can't protect him when he's so far away."

 _Not even a simple robin dies and I don't hear of it, and I don't mourn for it; do you really think that my chosen king would be beyond my care?_

"No, Aslan. Of course not, but-"

 _But what? I have never broken a promise and I never will. Your brother is safe in my arms._

Peter sat in silence for a few moments. He cast his eyes to the wooded floor beneath him. "The Lion need only shake His mighty mane for His army to appear, ready to fight whatever battle lies before them." Peter quoted the old Narnian proverb - Edmund's favorite proverb. "Mountains crumble at His thundering roar. His enemies cower before His feet."

 _What else does the proverb say, My Son?_

"But for the One He calls His own, He would lay down His life to provide a way. The Lion is love, and nothing is impossible for love." Peter guessed that was why Edmund loved the proverb so much; he was the One - the One Aslan called his own. Edmund would be safe under Alan's care.

 _Edmund is not the only One I call my own._

Peter looked out the balcony window.

 _You are my own, Dear Peter. Will you trust me to provide a way?_

"I- I... trust You."

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Agatone walked through the small camp that the Calormen had set up just outside of Cair Paravel. One of his uncle's guards had come to summon him, so he maneuvered his way around the tents until he stood before the largest and most decorated tent in the camp.

The Prince moved the tent flap and ushered himself inside.

"You called for me, uncle?"

Judas looked up from his document table across the tent. "Agatone. Come closer, please."

Agatone took a few steps closer and stopped before the table. "Something is bothering you, I take it?"

"Yes, something is bothering me." Judas grumbled some curse under his breath.

"May I ask what it is?"

The Tisroc have an exasperated sigh. "Our food crates were broken into last night and vandalized. Narnians, no doubt. I can only assume that they've learned about our attempt on the High King's life."

"Wait, what attempt on the King's life?"

"I had arranged for King Peter to be poisoned the night of our meal together."

Agatone had to keep himself from gasping in shock. "Is that why we came all this way? To _poison_ the King? These are our allies."

"Nephew," Judas circled around the table until he was face to face with Agatone. "Narnia is a rich and plentiful land. Can you _imagine_ if we owned such a place? _You_ would rule it when I'm gone. It would be _your_ kingdom."

"I don't _want_ Narnia, uncle. They are more valuable to us as _allies_ than they would be _slaves_."

"Only the ones who rebel would become slaves."

"Yeah, and you would kill the King. What about the Queens? They would not surely bend to your will."

"Well, they would have to be brought in as slaves. Perhaps, though, _you_ would like the elder? You could do whatever you please with her. I could make her become your wife." Judas chuckled. "She's quite lovely, is she not? A beautiful gem for the future Tisroc of Calormen."

"No, uncle, I will not have it. We are to stay as allies to Narnia."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question now, boy. Narnia and Calormen are bound for war. You may consider our truce to be broken as soon as we leave this wretched place."

"Uncle, you can't think of it!"

"Narnia has wronged us. They vandalized our carts and they've imprisoned one of my best slaves - outrageous, really - when he was innocent. We've all heard it said that it was that wretched faun that layed a finger against the King, yet they still haven't given me what is mine."

Agatone furrowed his brow. "It seems an awful coincidence that the High King was poisoned the day _after_ your attempt on his life. You wouldn't have anything to do with _that_ , would you?"

Judas tensed up. "Well, I- uh- I _may_ have equipped someone in the castle with the Parrowlash poison."

Agatone scoffed. "By the gods. Isn't it enough for you? You say that Narnia has wronged _us_ when it is _clearly_ the opposite. If war comes, it's going to be on _your_ back."

Judas stuck one finger at Agatone, rage evident in his dark eyes. "Do not test me, boy. I can strip you of your title and take away your inheritance. I will not hesitate to carry out my threat if I hear one more word out of you."

Agatone cast away his eyes and ground his teeth to keep from talking back.

"That's better, now, isn't it?" Judas gave a light tap to the side of Agatone's face. "We leave at dawn. I've ordered my own slaves to stock the carts since it's been made clear that Narnians can't be trusted."


	24. Separated

Umed woke with a jolt as he heard the familiar sound of the cell door opening. He had heard that noise countless times during his past life as king of Narnia. Criminals, big and small, being led from the dungeons out to face the judging glares of the Narnians as they are put before the public court in trial for whatever misdeed they had committed.

"Wake up, boy. Looks like the King has found you innocent, after all. Your master has come to claim you."

Umed realized that he _knew_ that particular guard. He quickly turned his head down and looked away, saying nothing in response to the minotaur, Zakai.

"Well?" said the guard when Umed did nothing. When he _continued_ to do nothing the large brute walked over and grabbed him by the arm. "Gonna make this harder than it needs to be?"

Umed continued his parade of silence.

"Fine, then." Zakai hoisted Umed off the floor and set him on his feet. He, then, proceeded to shove the boy along and out of the cell.

 _Oh, Aslan, please, no._

He just _couldn't_ go back with Judas. It had taken him _ages_ to get back home and, even if it was only in the dungeons, he'd give anything to stay here a little bit longer. Peter had said that he wouldn't let him go. Where was Peter?

Once the two of them had made it to the dungeon door, Zakai pushed Umed to the ground before one of the slave masters. "Here's your boy. Better not see him here again."

The slaver bowed. "I can assure you, you won't."

With that, Umed felt his tunic collar grabbed from behind as he was pulled off the ground. His breath left him for a moment, but quickly returned once the Calormene released him.

It took no more than ten minutes for Umed and the master to make it out of the Cair Paravel castle. In another twenty minutes, they were out of the great city. Umed's home.

 _No._ Not Umed's home - Edmund's home.

Umed was not Edmund. Edmund was free. Edmund was a king. Edmund is the mighty warrior that was written into history books. His soldiers would follow him to any end. His enemies quivered when they spotted him leading his ranks into the fray of battle. For his subjects, the name of King Edmund the Just meant peace and protection; it meant safety. For Edmund's enemies, however, his name meant terror and fright penetrating their hearts.

Umed, however, is but a slave - a slave that bears the scars of a king.

When they finally made it to the Calormene camp Umed felt himself break a little more at the sight of all of Judas's people packed up and ready to leave. He, himself, was payed no more than a passing glance by all the Calormenes preparing their carts for travel.

The slaver who had gathered Umed from the dungeons slowed him to a stop. A cold metal collar was secured around his neck, and he was attached to the long line of slaves that Judas had brought with him to Narnia. They were bound for Calormen.

Umed gave one more longing glance back toward what used to be his home. The High King stood on the outer wall, eyes focused solely on Umed. A deep guilt was evident in Peter's eyes; a guilt that shook Umed to his very core.

There was nothing else to be done. Both their fates were in the hands of the Great Lion. Aslan would help them, wouldn't He? There was no way to know what the Lion had in store for them; He had let all _this_ happen, there was nothing saying that he had to reunite them.

There's no way to describe the pain that Umed - and surely Peter, too - felt in his heart. They had been _so_ close. Umed had felt Peter's hands on his face. He felt his brother's strong, warm embrace. They met, they talked, they laughed, they cried... but they never got to say goodbye.

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Lucy sat at her own place at the table. Susan sat across from her, quietly consuming her meal. Peter sat to her right, in body, but his mind never seemed present anymore. He sat in complete silence, not a bite of his food taken. The plate was full of meats and vegetables of kinds. All very delicious, though Lucy imagined that it must be quite cold by now.

"Peter," Susan began, "You _must_ eat something. You're all skin and bones."

Peter just stared into the distance and shook his head. "Not hungry."

"You say that every day." Susan's mothering nature took over. Since they had entered Narnia, Susan had taken upon herself to be their caretaker. She was always first to notice when something was wrong or when someone was sick; it was sort of like that sixth sense that a mother has.

"I'm sorry, Su. I'm just not hungry."

"We're worried about you." Lucy piped from her spot at the table. "Two _months_ ago those wretched Calormenes left, and you haven't been right since. I thought you'd be happy that they're gone."

"I _am_. It's just... something else. I suppose I'll get over it before too long."

Lucy could see in Peter's eyes that he really didn't believe what he said. Whatever was bothering him was serious. "Peter, it's been two months, and you're _still_ not over it. We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong."

Peter gave her a look filled with great longing. "I _wish_ I could, Lu, I really do. If I told you, you'd only share in this same grief. I care too much about you to to hurt you like that."

"Oh, Peter," Lucy wined. She rose from her chair and approached her hurting big brother. She sat down on his left leg and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into his chest. "I _do_ wish you would tell us."

"Me too, Lu, me too."

"My King!" Came the broad voice of Oreius as the Centaur entered the room. "Sorry to intrude, but I have an urgent message for you."


	25. Edmund

**So, why wouldn't the animals recognize Edmund's smell? I'd say it's because he's been gone for so long. Other places can conceal scents and time can effect memory. Even if they _did_ faintly recognize his scent, they already think that he's dead, so they would probably brush it off.**

Two months into their return to Calormen Umed continued with his normal duties. He was to clean the floors of the Tisroc's dining room, the stables had to be mucked, the horses bathed. Normally the women would do the washing, but they were presently occupied with serving the Lord, Judas, in his particularly long lunch.

Umed couldn't help but notice that he had chosen to dine with two finely dressed Tarkaans, one of which Umed knew to be a highly respected commander.

The curiosity of what they could possibly be discussing was killing Umed, but he continued on with his duties, nonetheless.

After fulfilling his every day chores, the one chore that Umed dreaded more than all the rest, arose: the duty to clean the shrine room of Tash, the Calormenes' supposed 'god'.

Before entering the shrine room, Umed was forced to wear a black, humbling tunic to submit respect. He was not permitted to touch _anything_ in the shrine room, unless it was to clean the object. The large statue in the center was no exception. The ugly thing nearly reached the ceiling; it had four long, bony arms and its head had a hooked beak, like the birds of prey. Various bits of jewelry littered all parts of its hideous head.

The Calormenes adamantly believed that if Umed disrespected the 'god', Tash, he would be swallowed up and never seen again. Where they got these absurd ideas alluded Umed, but he refused to question it. His mind was focused on other things.

It sickened Umed to be in the presence of such a monstrosity, but any time he had tried to object to entering the room he was threatened with beatings. The only solace Umed found was that he only had to clean in the shrine room once a week, unlike the other chores that he had to compete every day.

Umed always got an uneasy feeling in the room. Tash was everything that Aslan wasn't. Being in the environment made him feel as though there was a wall placed between him and the Great Lion. It had gotten to the point where he felt so attacked that he had _begged_ the slavers to give him another job. But they would not.

"Aslan, do not forget me in this place."

As he prayed, Umed knelt down and cleaned up some ashes off of the ground before the statue.

"Surely I am not beyond your careful eyes. Have I ever done anything to forsake Your blood? Did I ever forget Your sacrifice?"

 _Do not worry, My Son. Nothing happens that I do not allow._ The strong voice that Umed knew well, spoke back.

"But, Aslan," Umed answered. "I feel so far from You. This Tash is working to overthrow my mind."

 _And is this Tash more powerful than I?_ _Does his might so surpass mine that you would forget me?_

"No, Aslan. I could never forget You. I just... don't know what to do."

 _I will provide for you. I will protect you. Trust in me._

Umed rose his head to see the Great Lion right there before him. "Yes, Aslan." He once again lowered his head.

"Why do you call yourself that, Dear One?" Aslan asked, and Umed could hear Him take a gentle step forward.

"What do you mean?"

"Your name is not Umed."

Umed shook his head, slowly. "It is _now_. I can no longer be Edmund. I am no longer he."

"What was your name when you were in Finchley?"

Umed looked back up to the tender eyes the Lion. "Edmund."

"And when you had to leave your home and live with the professor, what was your name?"

"Edmund."

"When you first entered Narnia - when you were taken under by the witch - what was your name?"

"E-Edmund." Umed gulped.

"And when I took your place, when I forgave you, when I accepted and _chose_ you - made you King - what was your name?"

"Edmund." Umed remained on his knees and turned his head away.

"Look at me, Dear One."

Umed obeyed.

"Just because you do not hold your past title does not mean that you are not the same person. You are Edmund Pevensie, King Edmund the Just, because that is who _I_ made you. Nobody - no position or place can change who I have made you. You do not belong to Judas, My Son. You belong to me."

Edmund smiled at the Great Lion. "I am Yours."

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"Peter, what is it?"

Susan's voice was foggy compared to the noise that the parchment played in Peter's mind. Lucy had back off of his lap by now and was sitting quietly in her chair, staring at him for an answer. Peter's hand dropped to his armrest with the letter - no, the declaration - in his white knuckle grip. His other hand then rested on his forehead and he pinched his eyes shut.

" _Peter_."

His sister, Susan's stern voice pulled Peter's eyes to her bright blue ones. Her gaze pierced him, demanded him to give an answer.

Peter sighed, loudly. "Our treaty with Calormen is broken." At the shocked looks his sisters gave him, Peter continued, "They have declared war with Narnia."

"What?" Susan gasped. "What for?"

Peter shrugged. "It's not clear, though I knew that Judas was looking for a way to make Narnia his own. Personally, I think that his formal declaration is better than his former tactics."

"There is to be a battle then?" Lucy's normally sweet and holding voice chimed.

"I'm afraid so, Lu. Judas is leading his army to Narnia as we speak." The news was devastating, but Peter couldn't help but feel a little better than before. Perhaps he would see Edmund again. Aslan had asked for his trust; perhaps this is what He had in mind.

Susan's voice brought Peter back to the present, "We must prepare the troops for battle, then."

Peter nodded. "We will want to set off as soon as possible if we are want to keep Cair Paravel away from battle. I'll send word, immediately."


	26. Negotiations

**I might struggle to get my chapters out as soon as I have been. I just started a new class.**

By the time Judas's army had made it into Narnia, Edmund was almost too exhausted to stand. The _last_ trip they had made to Narnia was made with ease since they were in no rush to get there. This time was different: Judas wanted to catch Peter as off guard as possible. If the Tisroc had not been required to first break the treaty and declare war, he would have liked to come completely unannounced.

Edmund could only hope that Peter would receive the news before the Calormenes could make it to far into Narnia. The last thing Edmund wanted was for his subjects to be caught in the middle of a raging battle.

It came as a relief, then, when Judas had called for them all to stop for the evening. The Calormenes set up their tents and put their stew pots over the fire. Edmund was untied from the short line of slaves that Judas had decided to bring, and ushered into the Tisroc's large tent in order to serve him.

Edmund was glad to have been one of the slaves chosen to go along. Most of the others would rather have stayed behind, but here, Edmund might get the chance to see Peter again.

Another positive to coming along was that it would be easier to find an escape. If the battle _did_ ensue, then there would be little to no guards to keep him from leaving.

"You, boy."

Edmund snapped out of his thoughts and turned his full attention to Judas, who was trying to call him.

"Yes, Master." He said, keeping his head respectfully down.

"Quit stalling and come serve your lord and his guest." Judas said, irritation obvious in his voice.

Edmund said nothing more, but took up the tray off the table by the entrance and filled two goblets with wine. He put the goblets on the tray and brought them to the two men.

Edmund knew who the second man was; he was the commander that Judas had eaten lunch with a few days back. From what Edmund had heard, his name was Commander Arild. Judas had taken him on as the second in command of his army ever since the Prince had insisted on staying behind to attend to Calormen in the Tisroc's absence.

Judas began conversation with the commander, "If what you say is true, then we must be prepared."

"My own scout saw them; I trust his judgement. They're but a days ride away from this very spot." Arild assured.

The two of them spoke to each other as though Edmund was was not even in the room. It wasn't anything new, but it wasn't usually Edmund who got the chance to hear what they were saying.

"And the High King was leading them?"

Arild nodded. "Just like he always is, My Lord."

Peter was already nearby? He had reacted more quickly than Edmund had expected. But, then again, Peter was never one to tarry when there was fight to be.

"Send your scout to them. I should like to talk with His _Majesty_ about the battle conditions."

Discussing the conditions for battle was always Edmund's job. It seemed weird that there should be a battle that the job would fall to Peter. Edmund trusted his brother; Peter would do the right thing. He would find a way to free him.

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Peter was escorted by three Narnian guards to the meeting place. Judas had arranged for one of his tents to be erected a ways outside of his camp since Peter wasn't comfortable going _into_ the camp to negotiate. Judas had already tried to finish Peter off in a dishonorable way; he wouldn't be surprised if the ruler decided to try again.

Accompanying Peter was Ziddim, Edmund's captain, who was standing to his right and a lioness named Domil, standing to his left. A Griffin named Gin flew overhead, watchful of any unseen danger that might spring out at any moment. Oreius had wanted to come along, but Peter convinced him that he would be better needed at their camp to prepare and guide the soldiers in Peter's absence.

As they came upon the large tent, two Calormene soldiers ushered them inside white Gin stayed outside to look for any approaching soldiers.

"Ah, High King Peter. So glad you could make it." Judas greeted from his chair at the opposite side of the tent.

"I don't think I had much of a choice, now, did I?" Peter glared at the man who had made his life considerably harder in more ways than one.

Judas gave a look of hurt. "Please, don't take this personally."

"So, it wasn't personal that you tried to have me killed?" Peter challenged the 'great' Tisroc.

"Mmm, don't be like that. I would have liked to be friends with you, but we're just too different."

"I don't want to hear your reasoning, just tell me what you want."

Judas pretended to think for a moment, but Peter knew that it was an act. He then rose his head as if just coming up with what he really wanted. "I think I would like Narnia."

Peter wanted to kill the man right where he stood. "You can't _win_ Narnia in a sole battle."

Judas shrugged. "Then my army and I shall conquest. We will do whatever it takes."

Peter took a deep breath and composed himself. "Then I suppose I had better kill you tomorrow." He said in the most calm tone he could muster.

The smile disappeared from Judas's face. He scowled fiercely at Peter. "I'll be glad when this fight is over; you'll be too busy rotting in your grave to be talking back to Narnia's new ruler."

Peter ignored the comment and continued on with his own conditions. He wouldn't stay here a moment longer than necessary. "If _I_ win, you must never enter Narnia again." Peter thought for a moment more, then answered, "And you must free all of your house slaves, leaving them in Narnia or letting them travel to Archland."

Judas rose one eyebrow. "What a strange request. May I ask why you would demand such a thing?"

Peter shook his head. "You know I don't agree with your thoughts on slaves. Just accept or deny."

This was the answer. If Peter could win this battle, then Edmund would be freed. He would do whatever it took to win his brother's freedom. Edmund had been through enough suffering, already; It was time to end it, once and for all.

After Judas had run through all of his options, he met Peter's blue eyes with his brown ones. "I accept your terms."


	27. For Aslan

Peter sat mounted on his horse - a dumb beast - at the head of his army. He stood and watched as Judas, Lord of Calormen, came to meet them from over the hill, just a little less than a half a mile off.

The High King had lad many battles since he began his reign, but this would be the first he fought without his brother by his side. He supposed it would have been worse if he still thought Edmund was dead; he would find it hard to keep his fighting spirit. Now, Peter had something to fight for, something he could give his all to gain back.

He could fight for Susan, who sat at the top of the towering rocks to the right of the Narnian army, leading the archers and guiding their shots. He could fight for Lucy, who had insisted upon coming and was in the healing tents at camp, prepared to use her cordial for any who might need it. But Peter would fight the hardest for Edmund; _his_ was the fate that depended on this battle. Peter would fight and bring him home, home to his sisters who didn't even know that they were fighting for him.

This was the determining factor. These soldiers had no idea what was at stake. This could either be Narnia's last stand, or the beginning of a new age of prosperity.

Peter didn't want the Narnians to fight for him; he didn't even want them to fight for Edmund. What Peter _really_ wanted, was for them to fight for their families, for their future, for Aslan. This fight would be carried out like all the rest. Narnia lived in honor and she would _die_ in that same honor.

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Edmund could barely see the feet of the Calormene, posted outside of the slave tent, beneath the flap, the entrance of the tent. His bonds rubbed uncomfortably against his wrists which were tied in front of him, but he stretched as far as he could to listen for any other soldiers.

The camp had fallen near silent long ago, but Edmund had to be sure that they were gone before making a move.

"Sit still, would you boy?" One of the older slave women scolded. She was tied next to him in the line of slaves. Each of them were bound hands and foot and connected by a length of rope running from ankles to ankles.

Edmund pulled himself back to the group of slaves, facing the woman who had just scolded him. "Help free my bonds." He lifted his wrists up to the woman.

She stared at him in astonishment. "You can't surely think of it, son. Do you know what they'll do when they catch you?"

Edmund nodded. "Yes, Miss, but I _must_ escape. They won't catch me; I won't let them."

The woman didn't look convinced. "They _always_ catch _everyone_ , boy. There's no escape I should know: I've been here for twenty-three years."

"Miss, if ever there was a time to escape, it's now. Do you want to remain here _another_ twenty-three years?"

The woman just stared. "Won't live that long, Young One."

"And do you want to _die_ in bonds?"

"It doesn't seem like that's my choice."

Edmund looked her square in the eyes. He held the attention of every slave in the tent. "I would rather die young, fighting for my freedom, than live a long life and die in slavery's chains. If you want to stay here, then stay here, but at least help grant me my wish. I can't do it on my own."

The woman seemed to consider his words; she paused for a long moment before moving to untie the rope around his wrists. "This is for you, only, boy. I do not have the strength to fight men. Aslan be with you."

Once Edmund's hands were free, he moved to untie his ankles. He then stood and addressed the room, quietly. "If any of you would decide to join me, now is your chance."

Frightened looks were all Edmund got in response. Who was he kidding? These people had spent so much of their lives in bondage, that freedom was a faded memory. They had no hope of any other life. To them, trying to escape was a death sentence.

Edmund bent down and clasped the old woman's hands in his. "I will come back; I will free you, if only to show my gratitude."

The woman smiled and went along with it, even if she didn't believe it. "Bless you, Child."

Edmund turned to the rest of the slaves. "I will come back for you all. I promise."

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Peter's attention was brought back by the blow of a Narnian horn. He noticed, now, how close the Calormene army had gotten. It was a simple charging distance between the two forces.

"My King."

Peter turned his head to the left and met the eyes of his great Centaur general and friend. "Oreius."

"This is it, Sire. The army waits only for your command." The Centaur gave not even a single flicker of emotion in his eyes.

"Thank you, Oreius, but I shall not be the first to call the on battle. I will not bear that on my shoulders." Judas would be the one to hold that blood on his hands.

"It is not too late to give in to my requests!" Shouted a fully armored Tisroc from his place at the front of his ranks.

Peter's blood boiled. "I would be a fool not to let Narnia take her stand against Calormen! We will fight to our very last before we give in to the likes of you!"

"So be it, then!"

Judas turned to face his army and raised his sword - a much wiser choice of weapon compared to the scimitar the Calormenes so liked to use - the Calormene army raised their voices in one big cry of battle. Judas pointed his sword back toward Peter; his army surged toward the Narnians, and the Tisroc was buried behind his ranks.

Peter took a deep breath in, then exhaled it. His army would follow him to any end. They would fight. They would win. All would be put right.

 _All would be put right_.

The High King let the noise around him filter back in. His blue eyes fixed on the enemy troops. He began his charge forward.

Peter didn't know which beat faster: The thump of his horse's hooves on the ground or his own racing heart. It didn't matter, though. The whole world seemed to slow down as Peter shouted at the top of his lungs, "For Narnia! And for Aslan!"


	28. Flight

**Why has Edmund decided to escape, now? Why is _now_ different than escaping when he was in Narnia _before_? Wouldn't it have been easier to escape then?**

 **Well, back in Narnia, Peter was ready to help Edmund escape. He was ready to do what was necessary, but if Edmund disappeared while in Cair Paravel, it would cause a lot of trouble for the monarchs. There wouldn't have been an easy way for Edmund to escape on his own without coming across one of the Calormenes and, if Peter helped, they would risk Judas finding out and give another reason for war, which they were trying to prevent.**

 **It is not legal for Narnians to buy slaves, so Peter could not purchase him. Slaves are supposed to remain with their masters until death or release, but, as you know, nothing can be done to punish the slave if he is never recaptured.**

 **Well, why didn't he _disappear_ , before, while in Narnia?**

 **Edmund didn't believe himself to be Edmund anymore. He had lost any hope of ever returning to his home. He told himself he wasn't a king; he was a broken slave, like the ones in the tent in the last chapter. Any hope of escape had long since died, only restored to him, later, by Aslan, Himself.**

 **Also, Edmund would not have Peter get too close to him. They could have sat together and discussed plans of escape, but if they failed, Edmund could be killed, leaving Peter more devastated than he was when Edmund was first lost. Edmund wouldn't have wanted to get Peter's hopes up in trying to free him, so he instead lowered his brother's hopes in trying to protect him from a greater hurt.**

 **Aslan has told Edmund that He has a plan, so Edmund believes he is to be reunited. To him, there is no better chance at that than to attempt escape on his own.**

Edmund took the first guard down with ease. He was paying no attention and was least expecting an attack from behind, like he should have been. Edmund had killed him quickly with a mere snap of the neck. The Calormene made no voice at all as he dropped dead to the ground.

Edmund took the scimitar and dagger from the soldier's sides. The dagger was tucked carefully into his rope belt, and he held the scimitar just like he used to hold his own sword.

It had been ages since he last possessed a weapon, but the hilt felt natural in the palm of his hand. It was like riding a bike: one could go on without riding for a great long while, but, once his feet are on the pedals once again, there's nothing to stop him from flying down the street. Of course, it had been _years_ since Edmund had last rode his bike in Finchley, but he had heard that saying ("Just like riding a bike") enough times to believe it to be true.

He wouldn't have to _believe_ for much longer, however, for he would soon find out for himself whether the the saying was true or not.

"You, boy!"

Edmund snapped his head toward the sound of a gruff Calormene voice. He froze up for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should he play dumb - act like he doesn't know what happened - or kill the man on the spot?

"You murdered this man!" The soldier said, gesturing to the the body - its neck twisted at a sickening angle - laying on the ground, between him and Edmund.

"I... I - uhh -" Edmund stuttered.

The soldier drew his sword. Edmund acted more out of instinct than anything. The moment the sword has been drawn, it was knocked from the Calormene's hand. In another instant, he lay dead, right beside the first man.

"Hey!"

Again, someone has caught Edmund's actions; but, this time, he did not freeze. As quickly as the man had dropped dead, Edmund had run from the scene. He could hear the sound of heavy foot-falls behind him and the shouts of more men as they noticed what was happening, but Edmund did not stop, he _could_ not stop. He didn't even know for sure where he was headed, but he ran through the large encampment, nonetheless.

Edmund only stopped when his way was blocked by a large Calormene soldier. He turned to run back the other way, but there were two more men behind him.

The big man stepped closer and reached out to grab Edmund. He reacted in the only way he could think of: Edmund dove out of the man's reach, landing at the back of one of the many surrounding tents.

The soldier persisted. Edmund crawled backwards until his back was against the tent. He froze for one moment, an idea striking him. Just as the man's hand was about to close around the scruff of Edmund's tunic, the young king dropped further down, his full body against the dirt. He lifted the bottom hem of the tent and just barely squeezed his way under and inside.

Edmund wasted no time. He was immediately back on his feet, dashing out the tent flap and back through the camp.

More foot-falls, more shouting. Edmund could hardly pay attention, anymore. Every turn he took seemed to get him more and more lost in the maze of tents in the Calormene camp.

Finally, he turned a corner and came face to face with the nose of a light colored horse. The beast startled at its sudden guest, bucking up and nearly knocking Edmund off of his feet. Once he regained his balance, the king rushed to untie the horse which, he just now noticed, was only one in a line of about seven unsaddled horses, tied by the neck to some wooden posts hammered into the ground.

Edmund patted the horse to calm her nerves. "There, Girl. Just relax."

The horse took some deep breaths and, then, seemed to regulate her pattern. Edmund was about to mount when an arrow whizzed by, sticking itself in a barrel not one foot behind him.

Again the horse startled, but Edmund quickly got her under control. He would have liked to choose another horse, but the rest were far worse, bucking against their restraints and stomping the earth below them. This girl would have to do.

Edmund hopped onto her saddleless back and intertwined his fingers into her hair. He would be lucky if she ever followed his bidding. No matter, though; Edmund needed only for her to take him from the camp. He could find his own way to Peter from wherever this horse took him.

The Calormenes had just caught up to him, when Edmund kicked his heel into the horse's side. She surged forward, knocking two men to the ground and changing through the camp.

They had just passed the last of the tents when another arrow whizzed by, barely nicking Edmund on the cheek. His horse startled a little, but Edmund bent down and whispered comforts into her ear.

More arrows flew past, but none of them had been as close as the first one had been.

Edmund could feel the blood running down his face from the cut on his cheek, but he ignored the pain. As the arrows ceased to fly, Edmund's mind then drifted to his next task: finding Peter.


	29. Ghosts

Edmund pushed the horse as fast as she could go; his hood had long since fallen back to his shoulders. The horse heaved heavy breaths as the wind dashed past them both.

Upon turning his head back, Edmund realized that the camp was just a small cluster of dots in the distance. No soldiers rode after him; Edmund supposed that there were too few of them to risk sending someone. If one slave escaped the others could be encouraged to attempt an escape, as well.

Edmund's attention was directed elsewhere when he suddenly heard a familiar sound: horrid screams and the clanging of weapons. His horse has taken him right in the direction he had needed to go.

The moment he has made it to the top of the hill his horse stopped. She saw the battle taking place, just as Edmund did. The two of them stood in stunned silence for a few moments. Soldiers killed soldiers; Calormene men killed Narnian beasts and vice versa. The battle was one of the bloodier ones he'd seen in his time in Narnia.

One voice rang above all the others on the field, "Fight! Fight for your families! Fight for Aslan!"

Edmund saw Peter in middle of it all, leading his soldiers like he had so many times before. He yelled bits of motivation to the Narnians as he himself cut down Calormene after Calormene. It was clear to Edmund that Peter was pushing his way through the seemingly endless ranks, trying to make his way to Judas. The Tisroc stayed behind his soldiers, only once in a while bothering to bloody his sword.

Once he had snapped out of his daze, Edmund kicked his heel into his horse's side. She whinnied and trotted forward a few steps. Before they had made it very far at all a Narnian leopard violently tackled down a Calormene soldier, startling the horse. She bucked up and threw Edmund off of her back. He fell the the earth roughly, and all the wind was knocked from his lungs. The horse ran back up the hill and was quickly out of sight.

 _No wonder she was left behind_. Edmund thought when he had finally regained himself and got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head where he would surely have a bruise. It wasn't the first time he had been thrown from the back of a horse, but nobody could ever get used to it.

Edmund gathered up his dropped scimitar and neared the battle. The leopard who had just killed the Calormene caught his eye and froze in place, staring in utter shock. Edmund was just about to call out for the leopard to watch his back, but he was too late. A Calormene struck the slashed the leopard across the side, leaving a deep cut on his side and causing him to fall to the dirt. The soldier lifted his scimitar to deal the final blow, but Edmund had advanced upon him too quickly for either of them to know what had happened.

The Calormene lay dead at Edmund's feet, one pierced hole right where the heart was. He didn't have long to celebrate his kill before he had moved to the leopard's side. The creature breathed heavy breaths in and out. Edmund bent down next to him.

"Hold on, friend. Help is on the way." He said, gently touching the side of the leopard's head.

"I... I thought that- that I... saw my... king." The leopard said between breaths.

"Hush, be still. Your king is here."

The leopard's eyes widened. He turned his head to look at Edmund, once more, then, his eyes closed and he fell into unconsciousness.

Edmund could hear the sound of approaching hooves. He quickly pulled his hood back over his head; he didn't want what happened to this leopard to happen to anybody else, so when two fauns spotted the injured leopard, he left them to tend to him.

The two fauns stopped by the side of the leopard and pulled out a stretcher. The leopard was quickly loaded on and taken back through the ranks. Not even once did they look up or even acknowledge Edmund's presence, but he watched until the three forms were out of sight, before he charged into the fray.

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Lucy hardly got a moment of rest. Iason had her rushing this way and that, healing those who would die without her cordial. Even Iason was surprised at the amount of soldiers that were almost doomed. It was good that Lucy has come; many would have died without her.

"Queen Lucy!" The master healer called. "Over here!"

Lucy got up from her place at the side of a recovering minotaur, and crossed the healing tent, stopping at the side of a very injured looking leopard.

"He needs your cordial. He's lost a lot of blood; he'll die without it."

If Lucy had been told differently, she would have thought that the leopard was dead, already; he had a long bloody slash on his side and he his breathing was almost too low to notice.

Lucy quickly opened the top of her cordial and carefully poured a drop into the leopard's mouth. At first, nothing happened, but, after a few moments, the leopard sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes, the wound on his side fading into a scar.

"My King!" He shouted and tried to rise to his paws, but the healers prevented him.

"It's alright." Lucy soothed, running her fingers through his spotted fur. "You're alright now."

The leopard relaxed his heavy breathing and layed back down. "Queen Lucy. I... I saw my king."

"Peter? Is he alright? I've been terribly worried about him."

The leopard shook his head. "Whether a creation of my own mind in my delirious state or the king himself sent by Aslan to me in what I thought was my dying momentsI saw King Edmund."

 _Edmund? This leopard must have been pretty bad off._ Lucy thought. If she had waited much longer to get the cordial to him, he may have died.

"Did he say anything?" Lucy inquired.

"I can't remember much of anything - I can't even remember how I was injured - but I do remember _one_ thing he said. He said to me, 'Your king is here.'"

Lucy wanted anything to believe that it was truly Edmund _alive_ that the leopard had seen, but it was impossible. The leopard had been near death when he recalled seeing her brother. Surely he could have seen Edmund if he had been so close to Aslan's country.

"Queen Lucy," Iason said. "The fauns who brought him in can't recall seeing His Majesty, King Edmund."

That was all Lucy needed to hear for what little hope she had to fade altogether. Of course it wasn't real. Edmund was gone. Her brother was dead.


	30. Selling Down the River

Peter fought with everything he had; he fought with his very being. The Calormene forces never seemed to have an end. But then again, neither did Peter's spirit. He had a reason to keep going. Nothing would keep him from earning back his brother's freedom. Nothing would keep him from saving Edmund's life.

His little brother had always been so fond of freedom. Edmund had always been more appreciative of it since he was in the White Witch's captivity. It seemed ironic that the one who loved freedom the most should be the one to suffer the confines of slavery's grasp.

But Edmund had been tormented long enough. Peter would allow him to suffer no more. He'd already failed in keeping Edmund safe, and it nearly cost Peter his little brother.

Peter had made a promise to his mother back at the train station, and now he had a chance to mend it.

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Edmund hurriedly made his way through the ranks, cutting down any Calormene in his way. More than once, a Narnian soldier would mistake him for their enemy and he would have to maneuver his way away from them to avoid conflict. He would not cut down one of his own people.

After escaping one such predicament, Edmund looked up and realized that he could see Peter not so far off. He was surrounded by Calormenes, never once letting a soldier get more than a cut on his blood spattered, fair skinned face. With each passing moment Peter was deeper into the Calormene ranks, forcing himself through the soldiers and pushing closer to their leader.

Edmund was just about to set off again when he was knocked forcefully into the dirt, a heavy weight positioning itself on top of him. He coughed as the air was knocked from his lungs. The back of his head had collided with solid ground, aggravating the bruise he had already gotten when he was bucked off of his horse before he joined the battle.

A groan passed Edmund's lips as he opened his eyes to see what was on top of him. He gasped when he saw it. "Ziddim!" He exclaimed.

The wolf - teeth bared and growling deeply - faltered when he finally got a good look at Edmund.

"Ziddim! It's me! It's Edmund!"

Ziddim didn't soften like he had expected, nor did he release his hold on Edmund; the wolf merely continued to growl, only more deeply this time.

"Ziddim? I'm alive! I'm here!" Edmund continued, hoping his friend would come to his senses.

"You're supposed to be dead. We found your body." Ziddim's voice held no remorse, only ferocity.

"Ziddim, it's really me! I didn't die. I right here! Let me up." Edmund tried to sit up, but Ziddim didn't budge; his paws pinned Edmund's shoulders to the ground. "Ziddim?"

The large wolf shook his head and growled once more. "Maybe you should have _stayed_ dead."

Edmund recoiled at the horrid words said in that bitter voice. "What are you saying?"

"You're nothing but trouble!" Ziddim barked. "I should have ended you myself. Can't trust anybody to do your job for you." The wolf said mainly to himself.

Everything seemed to slow down all at once for Edmund. "You... _you_ are the one responsible? _You_ did- did this to me?"

Edmund felt so betrayed. This wolf before him was not the one he once knew. Ziddim was his _friend_! Surely this couldn't be true.

Ziddim snarled. "I guess now I have to finish the job."

The wolf barked and lunged forward, baring his teeth to snap down on Edmund's throat. Edmund just barely rose his scimitar in time to save his life. Instead of Edmund's neck, Ziddim bit down on the blunt side of the king's weapon. In the midst of the wolf's surprise, Edmund threw Ziddim off of him.

Once Edmund had risen to his feet and Ziddim had regained himself, the two faced each other. As Ziddim snarled Edmund hardened his stare. The wolf lunged forward and snapped at him; Edmund just barely dodged the strike and it took him a moment to find his footing. A moment, however, was all Ziddim needed to catch Edmund off guard and snap onto his leg.

Edmund cried out in pain and brought his scimitar down, cutting Ziddim on the hind leg. The wolf immediately let go and whimpered, backing away from Edmund.

"What changed, Ziddim? You used to call me your king? Were you planning this from the beginning?"

"I used to respect you. You used to be my king. But that was before I realized."

"Realized what?" Edmund asked.

"Before I realized what a mistake it was for Aslan to put you on the throne. You're just kids that are ruining Narnia. If your rule continues this country will come to an end, just like all the countries that existed, once upon a time." Ziddim snapped. "You, personally, betrayed Narnia to the white witch; surely you couldn't care if she were to die. You just wanted the thrown. You don't _care_ about us."

Edmund shook his head. "It's not true. I care about Narnia more than _anything_. I would never want to hurt my people."

"But you already have, haven't you?" The words cut deeper than a knife, but Edmund knew he had to push them from his mind. They were lies.

The wolf continued on with his rant. "As king, I would be sure that Narnia got what she _really_ deserves."

"And do you think Judas would allow such treachery? You called upon _him_ for help."

"Judas would be a simple fly that needs swatting. My followers would heed my call and Narnia would be _mine_."

Edmund rose to his full height. "You could _never_ rule Narnia. Only Aslan can choose her king. You just couldn't be content as a captain."

"No more than you could be content as king."

Edmund shook his head. "We both know it's not true."

Ziddim shook his head as if trying to rid himself of hearing anything that Edmund was saying. He ignored the comment and changed the subject. "You want something done, you gotta do it yourself." He said, baring his teeth once more.

"You know you could never defeat me." Edmund countered.

"Perhaps not on my own."

Ziddim snarled and lunged once again; Edmund easily blocked it this time and quickly turned to face the wolf, but when he did, Ziddim was gone.


	31. Victory?

Edmund threw his head from side to side, searching for the captain that had once been his friend. Ziddim was nowhere to be seen; he'd disappeared into the mass of fighting warriors, but Edmund knew he would see the wolf again.

Out of all of all the soldiers in Narnia's ranks, Edmund had considered Ziddim most loyal - next to Oreius, that is. The thought that one so _close_ to him could even _think_ of betrayal was alien to him. Ziddim had been with Edmund on _every_ conquest since their reign began. The two of them sat together; they joked together, laughed together. They were imprisoned and escaped together. They had seen each other at their worst. Next to his siblings, Edmund would have considered Ziddim his closest friend.

Such thoughts, however, had to be pushed from his mind. This moment required his full attention. It was part of the rules in Narnia's military that any grief for a lost friend must be preserved until the battle is over. Ziddim was just as lost as if he had been killed in battle; he _was_ killed in battle. Ziddim had lost the battle with himself - the most important battle one could fight.

Edmund would have to mourn that loss later. For, now, he could see Peter just a few hundred feet away from him, fighting masses of Calormenes soldiers.

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Peter could feel himself becoming more weary, but there was no way he would let it show. He was in the trance of battle, killing and killing, barely distinguishing between the soldiers he slaughtered.

A sudden flicker of movement in the corner of his eye alerted Peter of the position of his next victim. He rose his sword to cut down the enemy, but froze when he found that it wasn't an enemy at all. His sword arm dropped limply to his side.

"Ed?" Peter gaped in shock.

Edmund said nothing, but shoved Peter to the side, nearly knocking him off of his feet.

"Peter! Watch yourself!" Edmund said, wiping his bloodied scimitar on his tunic, alerting Peter for the first time that his life had been in danger from a Calormene soldier.

Peter snapped out of his daze. He didn't know how Edmund had gotten here, but now wasn't the time to ask. Peter wanted terribly to pull his brother into a hug and tell him how much he missed him, but all that came out was, "I had it sorted."

Edmund just rolled his eyes - a welcome sight that Peter hadn't realized he'd missed so much.

"Never mind you." Edmund said, taking a step to Peter's right. "We'd better get a move o-"

Edmund's sentence was cut off as he was tackled down by a furry mass, before Peter's eyes. The scimitar Edmund once held was now lying on the ground a few feet away.

"Ziddim!" Peter cried, rushing to the two struggling beings. "I command you, stop what you're doing and let him up!"

The wolf ignored him and viciously attacked his brother, snapping at Edmund's face, only held back by Edmund's hands on his neck, pushing Ziddim away.

"Peter!" Edmund cried. "Hit him!"

"But, Ed-" Peter began, but he was interrupted by his brother's urgent voice.

"Do it! Just do it!"

Peter hesitated, but, seeing the peril that Edmund was in, obeyed. He cut Ziddim on the side; not deep enough for a serious injury, but enough to make him leap back from Peter's blade and growl.

"Ziddim?" Peter asked in utter confusion.

Edmund pulled himself up from the ground. "It's him, Peter. _He's_ the one."

The _one_? The traitor? _Ziddim_ was the traitor? _He_ dared to betray his sovereigns to the treacherous Calormenes? Peter wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't just witnessed such treason in person.

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Peter's face had a mixture of emotions written on it. Edmund could easily understand the thoughts running through his brother's head, they had been his own thoughts not so long ago. But thoughts had to be saved for another time.

Neither brother was entirely prepared for what happened next. Ziddim leapt at Peter, barreling into his stomach. Peter gasped for air and staggered back, giving Ziddim room for another attack. Edmund, however, anticipated it and was able to rush and knock Ziddim down to the dirt.

The wolf was immediately back on his feet and he quickly turned back to Edmund, who had no time, and no weapon, to defend himself. Ziddim bit down on Edmund's already injured leg, drawing a cry of pain from his lips. The wolf shook hard and tore at his leg, pulling Edmund to the ground. Peter's shouts were becoming more distant as they drifted to the back of his mind.

Edmund barely registered anything as he felt himself being dragged across the hard rocks and dirt. They hadn't made it far, though, before the dragging stopped and the pressure on his leg lifted. Edmund opened his eyes to see Peter kicking an injured Ziddim to the ground.

But that's not all he saw. Approaching an unsuspecting Peter from behind, was a treacherous Tisroc, sword at held high above his head, prepared to bring it down in a final, deadly blow.

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Peter's mind raced faster than his legs as he ran to stop the wolf who was dragging his brother through the dirt. He caught up in a few strides of his long legs and kicked his heel into Ziddim's head. The wolf immediately let go of Edmund's leg and focused his attention back on Peter. He snarled and pounced at the High King, but Peter was faster this time.

Ziddim bit empty air and Peter quickly turned to stick his sword, Rhindon, into the wolf's side. Ziddim whimpered and cowered away in pain. Peter placed his boot to Ziddim's side and shoved him to the ground. The wolf heaved, but gave no effort to rise again - he had been defeated.

"Peter!"

Peter flung his head around just in time to see Edmund shoving himself into a figure standing behind him. The two toppled to the ground, and Peter turned himself around just in time to see one of them rise.

"Judas." Peter whispered under his breath. Edmund couldn't be seen behind the treacherous man, which worried Peter further.

"Hello, _King_ Peter." Judas swung his sword so recklessly and hard that it forced Peter a few steps backward.

The High King was about to launch his counterattack when a sharp pain exploded in his ankle. Peter looked down to see Ziddim, jaw locked onto his leg. With one rough shake, the wolf had been relieved of his hold and cast into unconsciousness.

Peter looked back to Judas when he felt a hand close around his sword arm. The Tisroc held his wrist in a crushing hold and disarmed him with one swing of his sword.

Judas's sword was pressed against Peter's throat. The High King was forced back, where Judas pressed one hand to his chest and shoved him down into the dirt.

"Looks like I _win._ " Judas said in a hissing voice that reminded Peter of a snake.

The Tisroc placed the blade back to Peter's throat, then rose it again, preparing to make the final swing. Peter closed in eyes, bracing for the impact.

"Judas!"

Peter opened his eyes. Judas, too, seemed shocked at the interruption. The man turned around, only to come face to face with Edmund. Edmund's face was incredibly pale and a red spot on his tunic grew wider and darker by the second.

"Foolish slave, you have no business in a battle like this. At least I won't have to punish you for your insolence; you'll never make it out alive." Judas growled.

"I may _not_ make it out alive, but _nobody_ can tell me that I don't belong here. It is my place to be by Peter. A king at his king's side. A brother at his brother's side."

Judas's eyes widened with shock at Edmund's words. His lips stammered with words that would not come. Instead of finding words, Judas decided to try his sword. He brought his arm up and began swinging it down, but it was stopped midair by Edmund's hand grasping the Tisroc's fist, clenched around the hilt of the weapon. The next moment, Judas had gasped in and Peter saw him look down to see Rhindon, buried to the hilt, inside his chest.

The Tisroc fell the ground, his eyes no longer seeing. He was dead. It was over. The Calormenes who realized their defeat ran away and retreated. The Narnians shouted cries of victory as they chased the Calormenes back to where they came from.

But Peter didn't register any of it. His eyes were focused solely on Edmund's. His brother's posture slackened; he no longer held that proud stance he had when he faced Judas. The corner of Edmund's mouth turned up in that mischievous little smirk he always used to have; that smirk that made Edmund's eyes say 'looks like I'm the hero, again'.

That smirk that Peter had seen many times before, was all Edmund gave before his legs collapsed from under him and he crumpled to the ground.

Peter was immediately on his feet, rushing to his brother's side and dropping to his knees. Edmund's brown eyes looked up at him, they shimmered more brightly with the sunlight reflecting off of them. He breathed heavily and gasped in pain when Peter stripped a piece of cloth from his own tunic and applied pressure to the wound.

"Sorry, Ed, I know it hurts, but I have to do it." Peter apologized, looking up from the wound in Edmund's abdomen back to his brother's eyes.

"'s okay." Edmund slurred; his eyes were starting to drift out of focus.

"Hey, Ed!" Edmund's eyes focused back in on Peter's. "You have to hang with me, alright?"

Edmund didn't nod his head or even voice his agreement; he simply said, "Sorry."

Peter shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You saved my life."

"Not sorry... for that."

"Then whatever are you sorry for?" Peter's thoughts ran through his head, trying to think of what Edmund could possibly be apologizing for.

"'m sorry... that I have to lea- leave you." Edmund gasped.

Peter's heart sank. "No," He soothed. "You _don't_ have to leave me. You're going to make it."

Edmund shook his head. "Th- the girls-"

"I haven't told them anything. You're going to see them for yourself if you just hold on. You'll see that they're okay." Tears stung at Peter's eyes, so he let them fall.

"I want you... to t-tell them." Edmund stammered. "I- I want them to know... that- that I didn't die... like _that_."

Peter knew what ' _t_ _hat_ ' meant. Edmund wanted the girls to know that he wasn't tortured and left dead for his companions to find. Edmund was implying that, if he didn't make it, he wanted Susan and Lucy to know that he had died a warrior's death.

Peter shook his head; he wouldn't accept it. "You're not _going_ to die. We'll get Lucy; her cordial can save you."

"Pete, please don't... blame yourself f-for this. 't was my... fault."

Sticky blood had engulfed the cloth strip and was now covering Peter's hand, but he hardly noticed. "Ed, don't do this."

"I... have to." Edmund's own eyes now shimmered with tears.

"You _can't_ go. I _need_ you here with me."

"You... can go on... You d-did once... before."

"No," Peter shook his head. "No, I can't. Not again. It was so _hard_."

"The most p-painf-ful things... are never... easy... but they are p-possible."

" _Please_ , Ed. Don't go. You _can't_ leave me. You can't leave _us_." Peter begged his brother, but Edmund gave no notice to his pleas.

"Tell the girls... that I- I love them. And I love _you_."

"No... no, no, no, no ,no. Eddy, you can make it. _Please,_ hold on. Stay with me... just for a little while longer."

"We won, did-didn't we, Pete." Edmund stated, his eyes drifting to the blue sky, changing the subject from such dark thoughts.

"We did, Ed. We won. _You_ won." Peter smiled a broken smile, taking Edmund's hand in his.

"I'm free now." Now it was Edmund's turn to smile, but his was genuine.

"Yes, you're free." Peter nodded his assurance, sniffing as more tears trickled down his cheeks.

Edmund met Peter's gaze, once more. "The sky is s-so much... more blue when y-you're free."

Peter grinned at Edmund's delight. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat; the smile dropped from his face as he watched the scene unfold. He watched as Edmund's eyes lost their gleam; he stared directly at Peter, but it was clear that he was no longer aware.

The unsteady up and down movements of Edmund's chest as he breathed, ceased altogether. The hand that had clasped so tightly to Peter's, released its hold and fell limply to the ground.

Sobs wracked Peter's body as he pulled Edmund up into his arms and buried his face in his brother's tunic. He didn't care who saw, who judged, he just cried. Peter cried all the tears that had built themselves up inside of him; the tears that he had held in for so long.

Edmund was gone. There was nothing to be done, now. Peter's baby brother was _dead_.


	32. Couldn't Catch You

**Wow! Got some scolding from that last chapter. I hope you'll hang with me, though. If any of you are still a little sceptical, yes, Edmund is really dead. Sorry.**

 **Wasn't that heartbreaking, though? I almost cried over my own writing. It was _so_ hard to write.** **How did I do?**

Peter wept. He cried untill his voice was course and his eyes could no longer soak his face with tears. He supposed he should be strong; be strong for his people. But Peter couldn't bring himself to rise from the ground. He held Edmund's body close to heart, pulling away only once to close the empty brown eyes that had once held so much life in them; the life of his brother.

"Oh, Ed." Peter sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry."

His throat hurt from crying so hard, but he couldn't stop. No tears fell anymore - he'd run out by now - but that didn't stop the sobs that tore from his throat.

"I love you too, Ed."

Peter could hear heavy hoof-beats approaching from behind. The next moment a hand was rested lightly on his shoulder.

"Your Majesty." Came the strong voice of Oreius. He held no emotion in his words and Peter knew that - should he look up - the general's face would likely match his tone.

Oreius couldn't be blamed; to anybody else, Peter knew he must look silly. He was crying his lungs out over one who looked, to everybody else, to be a slave. But Peter knew that if they could see Edmund's face, they too would join him in mourning.

"Your Majesty." Oreius said, once more.

"Please, Oreius, I just... need to be alone." Peter never rose his head to look at the Centaur.

"Perhaps it would be better for you if you moved to your private tent." Oreius suggested.

Peter had to admit that it would be better for everybody if he moved. The battlefield was no place to mourn in peace. Susan and Lucy would have to be told; it would be better for them in private.

"Thank you, Oreius. I would like that." Peter nodded.

"Shall I help you carry hi-"

"No!" Peter cut him off a little too quickly, and rudely, he realized. "I mean, no, thank you. I want to carry him."

Peter knew he was weak, but he couldn't bear having Edmund taken from him again; not until he was ready to give him up. _Will I_ ever _be ready to give him up?_ Peter didn't think so, but he would have to cross that bridge later.

The High King rose unsteadily to his feet, pulling his brother's body up with him. Edmund's head fell limply against Peter's shoulder, breaking his heart a little more - if that was even possible.

"I hope you may excuse my asking, but what is so special about a slave?" Oreius questioned, still standing behind him.

Peter sighed a shaky sigh, still trying to compose his figure. "Every slave is important to somebody... _loved_ by somebody."

"Sire?"

Peter turned slowly and faced Oreius. When the great Centaur's eyes fell upon Edmund's still and bloodied form his stoic expression faded, revealing the first bit of emotion Peter had ever seen from his general. Oreius's eyes met Peter's once more and held a mixture of grief, sympathy and confusion. The look was so painful that Peter couldn't bear to see it any longer, so he cast his eyes down.

"Thank you for your help today, Oreius." Peter thanked, but his voice sounded broken and he never met the general's gaze. "You fought like a real warrior, as always."

Oreius ignored the compliment. "Shall I fetch the queens?"

Peter shook his head. "Not yet. They need to hear it from me. He asked _me_ to tell them."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Above all else, Peter admired Oreius's ability to receive orders without question. The questions running through the Centaur's head must be surpassing, yet he knew when to refrain from asking further.

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Peter didn't recall much of anything about the trek to his tent. He barely came across any Narnians, and when he did, they never looked closely enough to see what - or more so _who -_ he carried.

He didn't know how long it took to get to his private tent, but he couldn't care less. Oreius had taken to standing guard outside -under order of the High King- making sure no one entered, even the queens.

Susan and Lucy would be told - they had to be - but not until Peter could stand steadily on his feet.

As soon as he was inside, Peter layed Edmund on the bed roll and looked into his pale face.

"Eddy." Peter said, once again opening the floodgates and allowing new tears to steam down; tears unaccompanied by sobs, but broken words instead. "Oh, Eddy. Why? Why did you have to leave me? Couldn't it have been me, Aslan?"

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Lucy was just leaving the healing tent, finished with her duties, when she came face to face with her sister.

"Susan!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her arms around the other girl's neck. "You're alright!"

Susan chuckled lightly and and pulled Lucy off of her. "And I see you managed to stay here the _entire_ time."

"You have _no_ idea how hard it was to keep inside when you and Peter were out there, risking your lives. I was scared to death that the next stretcher would be carrying one of you two."

Susan's expression turned to a questioning one. "Where is Peter, anyways?"

Lucy gathered her thoughts. She hadn't seen Peter since he bade her goodbye before the battle. He seemed distant, then; he wasn't himself. Lucy couldn't imagine _anybody_ being themselves when rushing off into a bloody fight that they could very well not come back from, but before, Peter had always been able to brush it off and behave like himself. Of course, when had Peter last _been_ himself?

Since they lost Edmund, nobody had been themselves. They had only just recently begun to recover from that devastating wound, but right when things started seeming more normal, Peter's behavior changed. There wasn't much explaining it. When Judas was there, he seemed stressed, but not quite as sad and grievous; when Judas left, he seemed agitated and distant; lost, almost. But still, it was nothing like Peter's previous grieving over the months after learning of Edmund's loss.

Before the battle, Peter didn't seem to have been in grief at all. He was stoic and looked to be on a mission. Lucy supposed that he _was_ on a mission; Peter was leading his troops, and he couldn't be seen as weak and in mourning. The High King had to be strong this day. His life and the lives of his troops depended on it.

But none of this answered the question playing on both sister's minds.

"Lu?"

Lucy pulled out of her thoughts and looked back into Susan's blue eyes. "I... I don't know. He _always_ come to see us after the battles; he and Edmund _always_ would."

A short moment of silence passed between them at the mention of their lost brother before Susan pulled Lucy by the arm into a walk.

"We'll check his tent. If he's anywhere in the camp, he'll be there."

Lucy nodded at her sister's words, hoping desperately that her Susan was right. If Peter had been lost they would have been told, wouldn't they?

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Susan pulled Lucy along, maneuvering around the various tents and camp fires that had been set up the night before. It took not five minutes to reach their destination only to find Oreius posted outside the grandly decorated tent.

"Good day, Oreius." Susan greeted. _Glad you see you survived, again_. She added silently.

The great general bowed as well as a Centaur could bow. "I wish I could say the same, My Queen. But I can hardly count so much bloodshed good."

Susan supposed he was right, but she didn't come here to talk about if the day was good or not. "Well, if you don't mind, my sister and I will just be going inside."

The two queens took a couple steps forward, but Oreius stepped to block their way.

"Oreius!" Lucy exclaimed from beside Susan.

"Apologies, My Queens, but I am permitted to let no one enter."

Susan immediately entered her defensive mode. "We are your Queens! You must let us through!"

Oreius remained standing in his place. Susan couldn't help but notice that _something_ seemed off about him; something about his eyes looked different; they looked sad, almost. But Susan was too caught up in her frustration to think anything more of it.

"Oreius, I _command_ you to grant us entrance." Susan said, trying to contain her voice and resisting an outburst.

The Centaur made no move to obey her orders, but simply said, "The High King wants no disturbances."

"We're his _sisters_." Lucy said. "Can't _we_ go in?"

The general shook his head. "His Majesty has ordered that _no_ one enters, not even the queens."

No words could escape Susan's throat; she wouldn't let them. If she spoke it would only be in anger, and she knew Oreius didn't deserve her wrath.

In he moments that nothing was said, muffled sounds came from inside the tent. The words could not be distinguished, but Peter's voice held a weight. It was clear that he had been crying.

Lucy sprang forward, held back only by Oreius's strong arms hands on her arms, keeping her from entering. She thrashed harshly against his hold.

"Let me in! He needs me!" Lucy cried.

When Lucy finally stopped struggling the Centaur released her and straightened himself into a guarding stance.

"Is he injured?" Lucy inquired, as Susan pulled her back into a gentle hug.

"I can assure you that His Majesty is by no means, seriously injured. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing more." The Centaur assured.

"Then _why_ can't we see him?" Susan asked, the anger leaving her voice as well as her body.

"It is not my place to say. The High King, alone, has that duty. All I can do is promise to find you when he decides he is ready."

Susan nodded. No matter how much she wished she could rush in and wipe away Peter's tears, she knew it would do no good. Her brother would not accept a comforting presence until he knew he was ready for it.

All she could do was wait.


	33. Below and Above

**Just so we're clear, I _do_ have a plan for this story. I'm not just running in my last wheels.**

Peter thought back to when he and his siblings had first stumbled into Narnia. Toward the beginning of their reign, Susan had begun to notice how much danger it really was to be a king or queen of this magical land. Peter and Edmund were constantly coming back with serious injuries. More than once, they had thought their time together cut short.

The distance between them was the worst part. Susan had explained that every night was she lying to bed, she was reminded of the distance. She never knew whether her brothers were well or not, and she felt so far from them. Peter knew the feeling; he often had felt that way when Edmund left on whatever new expedition he was set to accomplish.

It was Lucy who came up with the idea that every night, no matter where they were, all four of them would look to the sky and know that they were seeing the same stars.

 _I suppose we'll still be seeing the same stars; I'll just be seeing them from below and you'll be seeing them from above._

Looking back over Edmund's body, Peter couldn't help but cry.

"It should have been me, Aslan. Why wasn't it me?" Peter wept, bowing his head over his little brother's body.

"My Dear Peter."

Peter rose his head and turned around. "Aslan."

The Great Lion stood at the other side of the tent and looked tenderly into Peter's eyes. "Come to me, Child."

Peter looked at the Lion, then back to Edmund's still form. He didn't want to leave, but the Lion had called him. The High King rose to his feet and walked over to Aslan, falling to his knees before His great paws.

"Why did you leave your brother?" Aslan asked.

Peter rose his head. "I... I don't understand what you mean."

"Why did you leave your brother where he lays now? Why would you leave his side?"

"Because, Aslan, You called me to You."

The Great Lion's mouth turned up in a gentle smile. "And so you understand why Edmund could not stay. I had called him to me."

"But, Aslan, why? I... I had only just gotten him back. How could You take him again?" New tears started to sting Peter's eyes.

"Do you not know that nothing can be demanded of me? I do not bend the wills of my people. It was in my plan all along to call your brother to me." Alan's voice was stern, but gentle, nonetheless.

Peter knew that he should not be accusing of the Lion. Aslan was in control of all; He knew His plan and carried it out accordingly. He acts on His own and is not required to obey anyone, but His Father, the Emperor-Over-The-Sea; He is not a tame Lion, after all.

"I know." No matter how hard it was to say, Peter knew that he must. He knew it was true and knew that, inside, it was what he really believed. "I know, and... I trust You and Your plan." He said, casting his eyes down, once more. "I have never been a man of great faith."

"My Son, I know your heart; you have more faith than you believe you do. It took a lot of faith to obey me and watch your brother walk off into slavery. If he hadn't, you would not be here now."

"But if he hadn't, _he_ would still be here." Peter shook his bowed head, slowly. "I... I would rather _he_ be the one sitting here, rather than myself. Edmund deserves to be here, not me."

"And this pain in your heart, would you give that to your brother?"

Peter ran it through his mind. This pain he felt inside, it was unlike anything. It hurt more any wound Peter had ever suffered; he would take a million arrows to the chest to avoid feeling something like this. There was a certain emptiness to accompany; an emptiness that surpassed. It was like moving in slow motion while the world was cashing down around you; you may try your hardest, but you are helpless to save yourself from the fire that consumes all.

No. He couldn't wish this upon Edmund; not on his little brother. Death would be a kinder fate.

"I could _never_ wish this upon my brother." Peter admitted at last.

"Look at me, Peter." Aslan's strong voice commanded.

Peter rose his head in obedience and gazed back into the Lion's kind eyes.

"Every creature has their time; even the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will lose their place in this life. You thought once, already, that you had lost your brother, and once you found that you were wrong, you lost him again. You have been so strong through it all."

"I... I don't _feel_ strong. I feel like I've been falling apart for months now, and finally, after all that has happened, I've crumbled into dust. Can that so be considered strength?"

"My Dear Peter, it is not the way that you feel that makes you strong or weak; it is your persistence through all that you've been put through. While you may feel as though you have been breaking, _I_ have been building you up and making you stronger."

"So, all of this," Peter thought back over the past months. "All that has happened is because you were building _me_ up?"

"That is only one of the many great things that will come from this. While you may have thought that you were doing fine on your own, I have worked to change you, and make you the finest king that will ever sit on Narnia's throne."

"But, Aslan, I don't _want_ that. I would give any of it up as long as Edmund was with me."

The Great Lion's eyes stared right into Peter. He was exploited and revealed. "Dear Peter, the king of such little faith, do you question my actions? Do you doubt my capabilities?"

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Edmund gasped, sucking in all the air he could pull into his lungs. He opened his eyes and stared up into a canvas of blue stretch.

Pushing himself to elbows, then rising up to his knees, Edmund looked at the scenery around him. Everything was familiar - it looked to be a part of the Western Woods - but also very beautiful. He could spot various trees that he recognized and a far off steam that he knew well, but the trees were more full and the river more blue than he had ever known them to be before. It was almost like the Western Woods he knew was just a snapshot of the real and more beautiful thing.

Feeling the grass with his fingers, Edmund couldn't help but notice how much less it irritated his skin. The warm sun added a comforting heat to his skin - as though he had just sunk into a tub of warm water after trudging through the snow for an hour - but when the breeze blew, it sent soft, cool, refreshing feeling through him - as though his skin had been burning in the sun and someone splashed cold water on his face. But Edmund never felt the cold bite of trudging through the snow for an hour, and he never felt his skin burn under the rays of the sun.

Picking himself off the ground, Edmund tried to piece together the last bits of his memory before the darkness. He could recall bonds, he could recall wind stinging his face, he could recall falling, fighting, betrayal.

 _Betrayal_

Horrible betrayal. Ziddim's betrayal.

What else? Edmund could remember battle, dodging bodies and swords at every turn. He remembered finding Peter; dear Peter. Peter saved him, but Peter was in trouble. Judas... Judas was raising his sword. Edmund had to stop him. He remembered diving.

Edmund could recall; he knew he had been stuck. After diving at Judas he had been stuck. He felt nothing, but he couldn't move.

Peter's soft grunt, the grunt that he made when he was in pain, but trying to hold it in; Edmund had known that grunt and knew that his brother had been in trouble.

Edmund didn't recall much about what happened next, but he could still recall pushing himself forcefully to his feet and finding Rhindon on the ground. He could recall Judas's face, that look of hatred turned to shock with only a few words from Edmund's own mouth.

He saw Judas fall, Rhindon buried in his chest. Did _he_ do that?

He saw his own shaking hands. He saw Peter's face, blood and grime unable to hide the look of fright on his brother's face.

 _Pain_

Oh, how he remembered the pain. So sudden and unrelenting. Edmund didn't recall how it had happened, but the next thing he remembered was lying on the ground, that same pain searing through his body, but now that Peter was over him, it seemed better.

Edmund remembered tears. There were so many tears. Sobs too. So much grief. Why?

Blue skies overhead. Freedom. If Edmund was free then why was there sadness?

" _I'm free, now, Umed._ _I'm free."_

The words rang in his head. Free?

 _Oh, Aslan, no. Please, no._

Edmund fumbled for the hem of his shirt.

 _There_ must _be a wound._ _Please let there be a wound._

He finally got the front if his tunic lifted, revealing his pale, bare abdomen. No wound.

 _No, no, no, no._

Not only was there no wound, but there was not even a mark. His skin was perfectly clear of any impurities. It was all so wrong; Edmund had gathered many scars from his battles fought. There should have been a scar; his _first_ scar. There should have been a scar from Beruna, when he fell at the White Witch's hand. But there was nothing.

Edmund began to search other parts of his body, hoping to find scars from his other past injuries.

"You won't find anything."

Edmund froze, not daring to turn around. "Zebah?"

"Hello, Umed."

This time, Edmund turned. Sure enough, Zebah was there. He approached Edmund from the trees and stopped just short of two feet away from him.

Zebah smiled at him, white teeth beaming in the sunlight. He looked so different from the thin, battered boy Edmund had met all those months ago. Zebah had been so joyful then, but his eyes gleemed ever brighter now.

"I told you I was free." His grin widened - if that was even possible.

Edmund couldn't find it in him to smile back. "So, it's true, then. I'm dead."

Zebah's smile faded. "I'm afraid so."

"Then, this is Aslan's Country?"

Edmund's friend shook his head. "No, but it's close."

"Then, what are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be in Aslan's Country?"

"I was." Zebah stated simply. "But Aslan sent me here."

Edmund gave a curious look. "Why? Why couldn't He come, Himself?"

"Because He was busy. He sent me here to guide you."

Aslan too busy to show one of His chosen kings home? It hurt, but Edmund knew that if the Great Lion wasn't here, He must have something more important to attend to.

"Shall we be off?"

Zebah's cheerful voice brought Edmund back from his thoughts. He smiled sadly, and set into a walk after his friend.


	34. Kings Stand

**Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Ziddim. I will get there.** **As for this chapter, well, read it yourself.**

"Aslan, it is not about what a think You _can_ do, but what I think You _will_ do." Peter admitted.

Aslan's eyes looked down upon him in a mournful pity. The look perplexed Peter. "My Child, you and your brother will be together again; that, I can promise."

Peter nodded. "In Your Country, yes, I know. That much, I am grateful for. I know how hard it will be to let go, but I have had to do it once before, so I know it is possible."

"Dear Peter, you think so little of yourself, but your wisdom surpasses your years. Your words and your actions demonstrate more faith than you think possible, yet you lack in one perspective."

"Aslan?" Peter questioned.

The Great Lion said nothing, but walked right past him and over to Edmund's body, lying on the bed roll. Peter quickly rose to his feet and followed after Him, coming to a halt next to Aslan.

"It is no simple thing to believe so deeply in something. Such faith can be rewarded."

Peter still couldn't understand what Aslan was getting at. "I've heard stories of it, but I hardly believe that I am deserving of any kind of reward."

A low, rumbling chuckle exited the Lion's lips. "No one is deserving of my rewards. Consider it a gift; something you can take, and whenever you see it, you will remember my love for you."

The Lion never waited for a response; He never gave Peter the chance to argue or question. Aslan just bowed His head before Edmund's body, giving off a soft pur. He looked up, once more, and gave a slow, gentle exhale of breath into the face of Peter's little brother.

Aslan looked back to Peter. "You may want to send for your sisters, now."

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"Shouldn't we be there by now?" Edmund finally asked after about an hour of walking.

It was strange how his feet and legs never seemed to get tired. Edmund felt as though he was walking on clouds.

 _Maybe cause I am_. Edmund thought to himself.

The negativity Edmund played was another strange thing. This place was better than Narnia in every way, but he was still unhappy. Edmund had just taken to figuring that once he had made it to Aslan's Country everything would be fine.

Everybody always says there's no sadness or pain in Aslan's Country; that everything is perfect and you can't find it in you to mourn for your past life. It all seemed nice, but Edmund wasn't really sure that he was ready for it all. He still felt that his life needed mourning - mainly for his family's sake.

Edmund had always known that he and his siblings would all pass on at some point, but he had never expected to be the first one to go. It should be the oldest ones that are bestowed with the blessing of leaving life first. Edmund couldn't help but feel selfish for taking it upon himself to take that from his siblings and give them the pain that _he_ should have.

"We'll be there soon." Zebah replied, grinning, but his eyes never once looking away from his path ahead.

It amazed Edmund how Zebah could still be so friendly after all that Edmund had let happen to him. Those horrid screams still filled his ears; they woke him in the night and haunted his thoughts. It hurt Edmund to know what he had caused this boy.

"Zebah?" Edmund began.

"Hm?" Was all the other boy gave in acknowledgement.

Edmund cleared his throat before continuing, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you." Zebah met his eyes. "If it hadn't been for me-"

"I would still be a slave." Zebah finished.

It wasn't what Edmund had in mind for the end of his sentence. "You would still-"

"No." Zebah interrupted again. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't care. It was _my_ choice. Everything I ever wanted is in Aslan's Country. It's _perfect_. Given the chance to do it over, I wouldn't change a thing. I saved _you_."

"But I still died, in the end. Nothing changed. We're both here and I've only made things worse for my family _and_ my country."

"That's where you're wrong; so greatly wrong." Edmund's friend smiled, once more.

"What do you mean?"

The two boys stopped their walking.

"I mean that this is where we say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Edmund asked. "But I'm coming with you."

Zebah shook his head. "This is where our paths diverge." At Edmund's confused silence and, likely, confused look, Zebah kept talking, giving a bit of a farewell speech, "I liked you from the moment I saw you walk into that cage; you seemed different, to me. Boy was I right." Zebah chuckled "You know, when I was young, I had a dream that a lion came and talked to me. I didn't know who He was or why He came; I guess I always brushed it off, before." Zebah pursed his lips to the left before opening them to continue, "He told me that, unlike most boys, I would only getone _real_ friend in my lifetime. There were many times when I thought that I had found them, but I was always wrong. I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm glad that you were my friend." The smile returned to his bright face. "Goodbye, Umed. We're both free, now."

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Edmund gasped in the air around him, sitting up and opening his eyes to see his surroundings. He didn't look long, however, before he felt himself crushed in a loving embrace.

"Ed!" Peter's voice cried, and Edmund could feel tears soaking into the shoulder of his tunic.

"Pete?" Peter was here? What was happening? Last he remembered was talking to Zebah, but that all felt like a distant dream, now. It _was_ a dream, wasn't it?

"Oh, Eddy. Don't you ever do that again, alright?" Peter's fingers clutched tightly to Edmund's tunic.

"Do what?"

Peter pulled away for a moment, and Edmund got a look at his brother's worn face. Purple bags were clear under Peter's red, bloodshot eyes, and tears wet his fair skinned face.

"Ed," Peter began, and it looked like he was struggling not to break down. "I lost you. You... you _died_."

So it wasn't all just a bad dream. He really died. He really saw Zebah. He really spoke with the boy. Most of all, he is really back.

Peter pulled Edmund back into a hug, only this time, Edmund returned it.

"The girls. What about the girls?" Edmund asked. He could feel Peter shaking his head.

"They don't know. They don't know anything. I sent for Oreius to find them. They'll be here."

Edmund nodded. It seemed unbelievable that he would be seeing his sisters again. Just moments ago he was speaking with Zebah in the bridge between Narnia and Aslan's Country, now he was with Peter, engulfed in hugs and tears of joy.

"I'm really here, then. I'm safe." Edmund breathed in and caught Peter's scent; it was disguised by the smell of battle, but it was there and it was heavenly.

Peter pulled back and held Edmund at arm's length, looking him up and down. "You're really here. A little bruised and banged up, but you're here and _alive_."

Edmund had a feeling that Peter was saying it more as a reassurance to himself, but he didn't care. He just smiled as more tears streamed down his bruised cheeks.

"Peter?"

Edmund's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lucy's voice; dear little Lucy's voice.

"Are you alright? Who are you talking to?"

Peter smiled and turned around to face Lucy, allowing Edmund to finally see his little sister.

When Lucy's eyes met Edmund's, she froze, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief. "P-Peter... am I going crazy or do you see the same thing I do?"

Peter shook his head. "There's much to explain, sister, but you're not going crazy."

Lucy's eyes never left Edmund's. "A-and Edmund is... is-"

"Alive." Peter finished for her.

The shock on Lucy's face mixed with excitement, but she never moved. Edmund knew that she must be afraid to; she must be afraid that if she ran to him he would be nothing but an illusion that would disappear at the first touch of her hand.

"Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to give me a hug?" Edmund said at last.

At hearing her brother's voice a huge grin appeared on Lucy's face and she shrieked with joy as she ran forward and dove into Edmund's arms. She backed up a moment and placed her hands on the sides of his face, taking in the sight of him.

"I can't believe it." Lucy shook her head. "This isn't a dream, is it? Somebody pinch me."

"It better not be a dream." Edmund laughed, pinching Lucy on the arm and drawing out a little squeal of protest as she pulled her arm away.

"Edmund?"

All eyes turned to the door where Susan stood, her face, as beautiful as ever, stained with the same look Lucy had just moments before.

Edmund smiled. "Hello, Su."


	35. Out of the Ashes

**Sorry I've been gone for so long! It's been a busy couple of days. I'm probably not going to publish tomorrow since it's going to be Christmas. Merry Christmas, everybody!**

 **So, the bracketed part of the last chapter is not something I put there. The name of the chapter was supposed to be "Together", but for some reason, when I published the chapter it added on that last bracketed part. I tried once to get rid of it, but it didn't work. I'll have to try again soon.**

"Edmund?"

The boy smiled at Susan. Her feet seemed glued to the spot, and she knew the shock must be evident in her eyes.

"Hello, Su."

This boy looked just like Susan's little brother. It _had_ to be Edmund before her; Edmund or some creation of her own deluded mind. But Edmund was dead; his body was brought back, mutilated and abused. Susan had mourned for him, weeped for him. Edmund was gone.

"You- you're not here." She stuttered. "You're dead."

The form of her brother shook his head. "I'm here. I'm alive."

Susan shook her head. This _thing_ , this _person_? seemed sincere. Those familiar brown eyes held a sense of sorrow, but the sorrow seemed mixed with the greatest joy one could find. Susan could read his expression as well as she could read Edmund's. It _must_ be him.

Could it all be a dream? This moment filled with her own denial and the tears of joy from her siblings at the return of their lost brother couldn't possibly be real. She was dreaming it all up. If she were to touch Edmund, she would find that his cloak held none of the thickness that it should, his hair none of the soft, tangles that it used to, and his eyes none of the life that once dwelled there.

Susan closed her eyes, willing the whole scene away, wishing herself to awaken in her own bed in her chambers at Cair Paravel.

Tears dripped from her eyes and streamed down her fair cheeks. Susan lifted her hands to cover her face, lowering her head in grief. It was not a minute later when she felt two warm hands touch to her own, lowering her arms and revealing her tear-stained face. The warm hands then touched to the sides of her head, brushing her dark hair away from her face.

Susan felt comforted by the familiarity of the touch. She opened her eyes and stared right back into those lively brown orbs. Edmund's face was level with her own. Since when was he her own height?

She touched her hand to the one on the right side of her head, allowing the warmth to fill her from the outside in. It all seemed so right, yet so wrong.

Susan reached one hand out and gently touched one of Edmund's bruised cheeks. The dark blue marks looked painful covering his fair skin. She looked further down and noticed how much blood covered his tunic. So much blood.

Tracing her hand down, Susan reached the tunic. It felt so thick and so real. Looking back up to Edmund's face, she moved her hand to his hair, allowing her chilled fingers to run through the black locks and untangling the little knots that restrained her hands from moving further.

It was so real. It couldn't be a dream. But it couldn't be real... could it?

"Susan." Said the slightly raspy, but still recognized voice of Susan's little brother. But his eyes said more than his words ever could.

"Edmund." Susan sobbed, throwing both arms around Edmund's frighteningly thin form and allowing her tears to run down her face. Even if it _was_ a dream, it was far better than the others she'd had, and she wouldn't let tree moment escape her.

"It's alright, Su." Edmund comforted, rubbing circles on her back.

"If this is a dream," Susan cried. "I don't _ever_ want to wake up."

"It's not a dream. It's not a dream." Edmund's voice held choked sobs in it. He spoke as if he was trying to reassure himself of the same truth he had been giving to Susan.

"You're... you're here." Susan gave a light, happily broken chuckle. "You're really here."

Edmund sniffled and laughed. "I can hardly believe it myself."

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The joy Peter felt at seeing his family reunited was unexplainable. He hadn't believed that much joy possible. But, then again, there were a lot of things he didn't believe possible that Aslan had proven to be so.

It was only by the grace of the Great Lion that this had even been remotely possible. Less than an hour ago, Peter had been dreading the moment when his sisters would walk through that tent flap, now, he couldn't deny anybody the joy of this dream come true.

"I can hardly believe it." Lucy said quietly, so that only Peter could hear.

Peter smiled. "Most of us still can't believe it, at all."

"I knew Aslan would follow through. He told me that all would be right when the pain was over."

The High King shook his head at his little sister. Lucy never ceased to amaze him. "I wish I could say I had your faith, Lu. I thought that Narnia would never again see the light."

"Darkness is never permanent, Peter. It stays only for a little while to show us where we would be without the light."

"Such wise words. Who told you that?" Peter asked.

Lucy shrugged. "Nobody. It's just, through life, I've found it to be more true than anything."

Peter chuckled. "You truly are a wonder, Lu."

Though Lucy was the youngest, surely she was the greatest of them all. It had broken his heart to see her change when they had lost Edmund. After all this time, she was back to being herself. She had always said that all would be okay, but she wasn't the same after what happened; nobody was the same. But Lucy had always held more hope and more faith than he or Susan ever did. In the end, Peter supposed it was Lucy that kept them from going completely insane.

Dear, little Lucy.

Now, their family was back together, and Peter wouldn't let anything happen to break that apart, again. Those responsible would pay for what Edmund went through - what _all_ of them went through.

 **So, I would just like to point out that my story is, and has been for a while, longer than the average Narnia book. I just feel a bit accomplished :).**


	36. The Bad Egg

Peter marched purposefully through the camp, mission set in mind. Those who hurt his little brother would pay for the pain they caused. Judas was dead - Edmund had killed that vile man, himself - but Ziddim was still alive, somewhere.

Edmund's old captain had been injured and it was unlikely that he got very far; that is, if he got anywhere at all. When Peter left the battle field, the soldiers were helping to carry their wounded to the healing tents. With Ziddim being as injured as he was, Peter figured that he was close to finding the traitor.

Edmund had wanted to come along - Peter could easily understand why - but it wasn't in anybody's best interest. As far as Narnia knew, the Just King was dead; if people saw him wandering around the camp, it would cause more confusion than Peter was ready to handle.

Once they got back to Cair Paravel, they would make an announcement and recrown their lost king. But, for now, Edmund would have to lay low and stay in the tent with Susan and Lucy.

"My King!" Greeted the master healer as Peter neared the main healing tent.

"Iason." Peter nodded, keeping his face stern and serious, much unlike the face of a king who had just won a battle.

Iason furrowed his brow. "Is something the matter, Your Majesty?"

"I'm looking for a soldier," Peter said. "Captain Ziddim. I was hoping to find him here."

The healer nodded. "Ah, yes. The captain was brought to me unconscious. We bandaged him up before he woke and tried to leave the tents."

Peter's eyes widened. "You stopped him, didn't you?"

"Yes, Sire, then we brought him to a separate tent to rest and be guarded so he wouldn't try another escape. I assure you, he will make a full recovery." Iason bowed his head as a reassurance of his statement.

"I can hardly care what kind of recovery he makes as long as he's fit to stand before the court." Peter spat.

Iason seemed shocked at Peter's sudden coldness, but he wisely gave no question to his king's words. "Of course, Sire. I'll show you to him, right away."

Without another word, the healer had set off past Peter. The High King followed after as he was lead to a smaller, less grand tent, sitting just yards away from the main healing tent.

The minotaur guard outside gave a deep bow as the two neared the entrance.

"His Majesty requests a counsel with the patient." Iason said, coming to a halt before the guard.

The minotaur huffed through his wide nostrils and opened the tent flap, granting Peter entrance into the tent. The High King gave no acknowledgment to his companions as he passed through the flap; Peter was set in a mission.

"Finally come, at last." Growled the voice of the wolf from his bed roll at the other side of the tent.

"It seems I have." Peter straightened his back, forcing himself up to his full height.

"I expected you sooner. I guess you were too busy mourning over the body of your brother." Ziddim's voice was like venom, but Peter had to restrain a smile as he recalled that he knew something that the ex-captain didn't.

"Don't congratulate yourself yet." Peter fixed his eyes in a hard stare. "You will pay for what you did; I will promise you that."

The wolf gave off a growling chuckle. "It will be worth it as long as I know that I participated in the demise of one of the kings of Narnia. I have succeeded in my goal, if only in part. I have made you suffer more than you could _ever_ make me suffer."

Peter wanted to lop the head off the accursed beast right there. Ziddim was lucky that he had promised Edmund that he would not resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary. This wolf had been the reason for all that pain- all that suffering - yet Edmund still had found the grace in his heart to provide the traitor with a proper trial before initiating punishment.

Peter wondered how - with Edmund gone - not even one insolent diplomat had lost his head to Rhindon. It was no little known fact that the High King got easily frustrated, and that Edmund had taken it upon himself to be the one to help Peter control that anger. Oh, Aslan, how Narnia was lucky that she had her just king back.

"Captain Ziddim, I hereby strip you of your title and place you under arrest on the charges of treason and attempted murder. Your trial will begin next week after we all settle in from this fortunate victory."

The wolf stared, clearly unsurprised with this development. Ziddim still had no idea that Edmund was alive; he didn't have much of anything to do with Edmund's death, so he couldn't be charged with it. No charges including Edmund's murder would ever hold up in court, anyhow; Edmund was, after all, alive, so there was no definitive proof that he was ever killed - all evidence would point to the opposite, really.

"The way I see it, I still win." Ziddim said, no emotion clear in his dark eyes.

Peter shook his head. "Before I bring you to my guards, I would like you to come with me. I have somebody who would very much like to see you."

 **So, one of my shorter chapters. Hopefully I can get one or two out over the next couple days.**


	37. Never to Suffer Alone

**In a little offended that I've only been getting about one review for my past couple chapters. For the end of this one, how about I give you an assignment?**

Edmund smiled snarkily as he got caught the first sense of his ex-captain's shock. Immediately after entering the tent, Ziddim had become frozen stiff and he stood, shakily in stunned silence.

"Do you think it's all worth it now?" Peter asked the wolf, a smile clearly dancing in his voice.

Ziddim's eyes never faltered their shocked stare at Edmund. "He's... you're... I saw you run through the chest with a blade. You... you couldn't possibly have survived." The wolf finally barked out, his eyes regaining a small sense of their previous stoic hold.

Lucy's fingers clutched a little more tightly onto Edmund's arm. Of course, they hadn't told the girls about that whole situation; it would have to wait until later. Edmund could feel his sisters' confused stares on him, but he never bothered to acknowledge them; more important things held his present attention.

"After all the time we spent together, I had expected you to know me better than that." Edmund smirked.

Ziddim's ears lowered and he bared his teeth, growling deeply. "I knew I should have finished you off myself when I had the chance. It's a shame that those accursed Calormenes decided you better for the market; all of Narnia's problems would have been solved."

Edmund scoffed, and Peter looked like he was ready to have the wolf killed, on the spot. "Only after you killed half of them and threatened the rest. They are a people who know their mind; they would not readily bend to the will of a tyrant."

Ziddim chuckled. "They would learn."

Peter's hand tightened on the hilt of Rhindon; it was a nearly imperceptible action, but Edmund caught it and shot his brother a warning look. Peter's hand immediately dropped to his side, once more, allowing Edmund to continue his talk.

"You are only digging yourself a deeper hole." Edmund took a step closer, allowing Lucy to slip off of his arm. "You continue to give more and more incriminating statements before the most powerful people in Narnia. It's not looking good for you."

"I'm already a doomed soul. I committed high treason and I attempted to kill the King; it was never a question of _if_ you were going to kill me, but _when_ you were going to kill me."

"That's enough." Peter broke in. "I think we've _all_ had it with you, by now. Allow me to escort you to where you'll be staying." Peter said in sarcastic hospitality.

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Home.

Finally the army would be headed home. It took nearly a whole day to pack up the gear and roll up the tents and put out the fires, but they were finally done and Lucy could not wait to be back home, again.

The battle had been devastating to the ranks, yes, but Lucy could hardly find herself able to care. She could hardly believe what had come upon them, what Aslan had gifted to her family. Nobody had thought such a thing possible; these happenings only came about in fairy tales - the kinds that were always Lucy's favorite stories.

Who could imagine that their long lost king and brother would one day be returned to them. Edmund was a little beaten and bruised, but he was alive.

When Lucy had asked her brother about the new scars and bruises he beheld, Edmund would just shrug and brush it off as something that was in the past, now. It was no doubt that it was all in the past, but Lucy knew that the past always affected the future. Edmund's scars cut deeper than the skin. It was clear to all of the Pevensies that it would be a long time before their brother was full again... if he ever _became_ full again.

Lucy had often heard stories - even seen it herself a time or two - of soldiers come back from a long war away from home. Some soldiers could never get over the things they had been through, especially the ones who had been taken prisoner. Her siblings tried to keep her from hearing such tales, but there was no hiding those horrors. Lucy had heard tell of a soldier who had ended his own life after being driven mad from the hauntings of his life in captivity after being captured in battle. Two minotaur guards had been speaking of the matter, and Lucy had just happened to be passing by. She hadn't heard much, but she had heard enough to give her nightmares.

It broke Lucy's heart to know such a thing could happen. And, while Edmund had not been a prisoner of war, he'd been a prisoner of another kind. The experience could be no less traumatizing than the former. Lucy had seen a variety of her brother's new scars, but she was sure that there were many more he would not show. The mere look in Edmund's eye was a scar that Lucy knew he did not mean to reveal.

These painful memories would not be easy for Edmund to overcome, but he would not have to overcome them alone. Peter, Susan _and_ Lucy herself would all be there with him. This struggle is not his own burden to carry. If his siblings couldn't be there to help him in his darkest moments, then what was he to them? Their brother had not been returned to them so he could suffer alone.

They were all in this together, and that's how it should be.

 **Sweet chapter.** **So, for your assignment I want you guys to review and tell me your favorite quote or moment in this story. It can be from any of my previous chapters.**


	38. The Bite of Old Scars

**I will get into Ziddim and answer the questions in a while.**

 **What's up, guys? Where have you been? I must say I'm a little offended that you've mostly all gone silent. I'm still accepting answers to the assignment, but it's not necessary. I'd just like to know what parts I did best on.**

Edmund didn't think that his own bed had ever been quite as comfortable as it was now. He had entered the room just moments ago to find it almost exactly the way it was when he left - not a thing was out of its place.

After taking in the beautiful sight, Edmund had thrust himself upon his bed, sinking into the thick covers. He pulled his pillow up to his chest and hugged it close, nuzzling his face into the smooth silk of the pillowcase. The scent nearly put Edmund to sleep. It was all so familiar, and his mind was comforted by the smell of his pillow. The smell meant that he was in a safe place and he could ease himself into sleep without having to worry about a sole thing.

Edmund was worn from the long trip back to Cair Paravel and was almost relieved that it was night already. Nearly all of Narnia would be fast asleep by now, and soon he would join.

Climbing further up into bed, Edmund lifted the covers and slipped inside, allowing his bare feet to poke out the other side of his comforter. After blowing out the candle on his nightstand, Narnia's Just King rolled into his stomach and stretched both arms out to his left, grabbing hold of his pillow and pulling it to his face, once more. Edmund's head dropped down against his second pillow and he closed his eyes tightly, casting away all he knew to slip into sleep's comforting embrace.

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 _Umed carried himself through the halls of the palace of the Tisroc. Hardly a spare moment was ever given to him, as he was always busy with his daily chores. When he was in between or finished with his chores he never got close enough to the slave quarters to rest his weary body. It almost seemed that every Calormene in the palace needed assistance only when they saw a slave passing by._

 _If only Peter were here now; without a second thought, the High King would have drawn his sword and, without the slightest bit of sense or grace, relieved every Calormene's miserable shoulders of their wretched head. It almost made Umed chuckle to imagine the look on King Judas's face when he beheld such a dastardly sight, presented by none other than Narnia's High King._

 _It would be quite the spectacle once Peter made his show._

 _"Rotten slave." Came a gruff voice._

 _Umed froze his step, expecting the owner to be cursing_ him _. He quickly found, however, that that was not the case._

 _Just a few feet to Umed's right stood a Calormene, towering over a trembling slave girl. Umed had recalled seeing the girl before, though he had never bothered to learn her name. There was no use in getting close to people if he could not be permitted to take them with when he was freed; it would only cause for more pain than he was in already._

 _"I thought I told you to bring the_ red _wine, not the white."_

 _Of course it was something as silly as that. Calormenes would look for any little reason to lash out at a slave._

 _"I- I'm sorry... I d-didn't mean it." The girl stammered, keeping her head down in submit to the man's authority._

 _"Oh? So, now you think you can talk to me without being permitted?" The Calormene practically shook with anger. "I ought to beat you where you sit!"_

 _The young girl said nothing, but it was clear to Umed that she couldn't keep the sobs from escaping past her quivering lips._

 _"Shut up, stupid girl, or I'll be forced to make good on my threat."_

 _The girl couldn't stop her crying. Her heavy gasps were clear indicators that she tried to hold it in, but she continued her sobbing, nonetheless._

 _Normally, Umed would have just sighed sadly and continued on his way to avoid having to see the outcome of this development, but his attention was so caught up in the helplessness of the young girl. That's why, when the Calormene rose his fist, prepared to swing it down upon the poor creature, Umed found himself propelling toward the vile man._

 _Before any of them knew what had happened, Umed was on top of the Calormene, swinging his white knuckled fists down upon the face of the monster until they bled. Umed didn't know how much time had passed before he felt two pairs of hands clutch his arms and drag him to his feet. When he looked down upon his handiwork he saw the bloody-faced Calormene, nearly beaten to unconsciousness. The young girl had apparently run off._

 _"You scum." One of the soldiers holding his arm said. "Just what do you think you were doing?"_

 _Umed couldn't find any answering words within him. All he could do was stare blankly down at the man lying on the ground._

 _"The Tisroc (may he live forever) could have you executed for this." The second man said._

 _"You're lucky that this was your first real trouble; the Tisroc (may he live forever) will settle with a lashing."_

 _The next few moments were a bit of a blur for Umed. He could barely register anything as he felt himself himself being dragged to the outside of the palace where his cloak was removed from his back and he was tied between two poles - one wrist to each pole, placing him in in a 'T' position_.

 _Little clusters of people gathered around him to witness the punishment. Edmund could hear the crack of the whip as it was prepared behind him. He closed his eyes to brace for the pain that would ensue._

CRACK! _Went the whip and the stinging leather collided with Umed's bare back. He had to bite his lip to keep from letting a cry or even a whimper escape him._

 _Once again, there was a loud_ CRACK!

 _This time, Umed couldn't help a little grunt of pain. His lips had begun to bleed from him digging his teeth so hard into them._

CRACK! _Every lash that struck Umed's skin hurt worse than the one before it. Every swing of the whip drew a little louder of a cry from between Umed's lips._

CRACK! _The faces before him began to grow fuzzy. From the throb in his throat, Umed knew that he must be screaming, but he could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart and the crack of the whip._

CRACK! _The pain continued searing through Umed's body. He could hardly distinguish between the lashes, by now. The only way to know that he'd been struck again was by the sound of the whip being brought down upon his bloodied back and the throb of his throat as he tried hard to hear himself cry out._

CRACK! _How many times he'd been hit, Umed did not know anymore._

CRACK! _How much more could he take?_

CRACK! _His vision was beginning to fade._

CRACK! _No more._

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

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Edmund woke with a start, sitting up in bed and instinctively cowering and covering his head, prepared for the blow his slave master would deal. He whimpered slightly at the anticipation.

"Edmund?" Whispered a quiet and familiar voice.

He lowered his arms and loosened up. "Lu?"

Lucy's shining blue eyes stared back at Edmund. "Are you alright?"

Edmund didn't answer; instead, he looked around to find himself still in his room, sitting on his bed with Lucy sat beside him. "What are you doing in here? It's the middle of the night." He asked, looking back to his little sister.

Lucy downcast her eyes. "I just wanted to assure myself that you're still here. I feel like if I leave you you'll just disappear again. Then... you had a nightmare." Lucy looked back up to his eyes.

Edmund felt embarrassed, now. He was supposed to be strong for Lucy; she needed to see him strong. "I'm sorry, Lu."

A short moment of silence passed between them before Lucy broke it with her gentle voice. "Why did you flinch away?"

"I... I just-" Edmund didn't know what to say.

"You were scared that I would hurt you." Lucy finished for him. She gave him a pitying look that he could barely stand to see. Lucy shouldn't have to give him that look.

Edmund lowered his head in shame, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. Two sets of five warm fingers wrapped around his wrists and pulled them away from his face. Lucy's thumb rubbed against the rope scarring on his wrists, tracing over the horrible memories.

"You don't have to be ashamed. You couldn't help it." Lucy's soft voice comforted.

"I know, I know, but I should be strong. I should be strong for _you_. What kind of example can I be if I act so pathetically before my little sister?" Edmund looked timidly back up.

Lucy rubbed the backs of his hands in a comforting motion. "I can hardly care how you act after such a horrible happening. You survived. You fought for us and came back to us; that's a better example than anything. It can be good to see your highers like this. This means that you are human. There is nothing wrong with it, at all."

Edmund gave a small smirk. "It means a lot coming from you, Lu."

Lucy smiled. "We'll all be here for you, Edmund. That's _really_ what siblings are for. We need to be able to show each other our weaknesses. The only way to overcome them is together."


	39. A Sister's Care

**So glad a few of you answered! I'd like to clarify that the dream in the last chapter was a memory of what really happened while Ed was in slavery.**

 **It was really fun to hear what some of your favorite moments and quotes were. I'm still open to hearing more if you didn't get a chance to say or if you had another favorite. I'd have to say that _my_ favorite was a few chapters back when I had Ed killed off. It was really fun to write.**

Peter knew his little brother was _not_ happy with having to stay in his room as much as he had to, but they couldn't have him wandering around the Cair before his formal reintroduction. Luckily they wouldn't have to wait much longer; they would have everything ready by tomorrow.

Invitations were sent to the Pevensies closest friends and the higher officials that there was to be a feast to celebrate victory. Of course, that's not the _real_ reason that there was to be a feast. It made Peter smile to think of the looks on the faces of all present when they brought Edmund through the door - they would likely be similar to his _own_ face when he saw his brother unveil himself all those weeks ago. After the feast they would announce Edmund's return to the whole kingdom of Narnia and even send letters to their allied kingdoms.

When Peter first discovered that his brother was still alive Edmund had been determined to get it across that he was no longer a king, but a slave. Now, Edmund was free, but it was clear that he still didn't really act worthy of his title.

It was Lucy's idea to have Edmund officially recrowned. No more would their brother be able to say that he was no longer a king; he would be declared one before all of Narnia, much like the four of them had been all those years ago when they had first entered the magical land. It had taken some convincing to get Edmund to finally believe himself worthy of the throne of the very country he had betrayed, but they had done it. Hopefully this time would be easier.

The recrowning would be held in two days time. There would be feasting, songs, dancing, laughing and greetings of all those who had missed Peter's little brother the most. It was nearly impossible to comprehend that this was truly happening. These things only happened in stories and dreams. But Aslan had ways of making such things come true.

After Narnia had finished celebrating her king's return they would hold Ziddim's trial in public court for anybody to see. Peter had guessed that it was possible for the traitor to have sympathizers, but Edmund seemed absolutely sure of it. They would have to make a search through the kingdom to find those who stood by the treacherous ex-captain. But all of that would have to wait.

Peter was sure to double the guard the moment he returned in case one of the sympathizers had decided to make an attempt on the lives of one of the monarchs.

All seemed to be going just as planned. Nothing seemed out of place. Within a few weeks time, everything would be back to normal. Everything would be right.

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"Su, you don't have to mother over me constantly." Edmund complained when his older sister lifted his tunic to rub more ointment onto the scarring on his back.

Susan had barely left Edmund alone since they had returned. Unfortunately, he was unable to leave the room and, therefore, unable to escape her overly-careful nature. She was always adding some new sort of medicine to his diet or some different concoction to his injuries. Edmund knew his sister was just trying to help, but it was all starting to get a little overbearing.

"Just hold still! If you would just submit to my care then I could help you. Stop being so stubborn!" Susan scolded as she clutched Edmund's tunic a little harder to keep him from moving.

"I'm _fine_. I was doing just as well without all of this stuff." Edmund grumbled, shifting his crossed legs around as he tried to get comfortable on the soft covers of his bed.

"Wouldn't know how well you do _with_ it because you never let me get enough on you!"

Edmund had never thought he could miss Susan's insistent care, but now he realized how wrong he was. He supposed he really didn't know _why_ he was still arguing; it wasn't like he was going to win. Edmund guessed that it was because he had never been one to comply before. Before, Edmund had _always_ argued with Susan whenever she tried to fix him up; to stop now would take away the memory of how it was all those months ago.

"I don't _need_ any."

Susan grumbled something inaudible under her breath, then spoke aloud. "I know you don't _need_ it, but it will help you feel better and hopefully take away some of the scarring."

"I feel just _fine._ " Edmund argued. He couldn't see Susan's face, but he could imagine the one doubtful raised eyebrow.

The next moment he felt a slap on his back. It was gentle enough that it wouldn't normally hurt, but hard enough that it aggravated the bruises and old scars he had gathered.

Edmund flinched away. "Ouch! What was _that_ for?"

Susan chuckled. "Looks like you were lying, after all."

Edmund pulled away and turned to face his older sister. "Come on. I did just fine without your help in Calormen. I think I can handle _this._ "

The smile faded from her face. Susan said nothing, but gave him a pitying, heartbroken look. He knew he'd said something wrong. Edmund would really have _liked_ to have Susan's help while in Calormen. He _didn't_ do fine there, he just survived.

"Alright." Edmund complied.

A smile crept its way onto Susan's face. Edmund just rolled his eyes and turned around once more to let Susan finish her work.

 **It's not much, I know, but it does help me set things up for future chapters.**

 **For those of you who may not have really known or noticed, scars really _do_ hurt when they are messed with. I got one about 12 years ago that still pains me to this day. So, I _am_ accurate in that account.** **Remember! Still taking favorite quotes or moments! :)**


	40. Old Friends

**40 chapters!!!**

 **Man! Feels like I've been gone _forever_! Sorry. I've been super busy lately. Hopefully I can get back before too long.**

 **So, new assignment: what do you think was the most well written part or chapter that you can remember?**

"My friends," Peter greeted as the dining room began to fill with friends from all over. "I cannot tell you how it pleases my heart to see you all."

Various smiles and greetings were cast his way by different creatures as they entered the room. The next moment Peter saw a flash of brown and a jumble of skirts as Lucy ran past him.

"Mr. Tumnus!" The girl squealed as she threw herself into the faun's arms.

Mr. Tumnus had left Cair Paravel shortly after the battle of Beruna. He had missed his home too much and could remain with them no longer. He'd often come to visit, but the last they had seen him was at Edmund's funeral many months ago.

"My dear little Lucy, you are taller and more beautiful every time I see you." Mr. Tumnus's smile faded as though recalling the circumstances of their last meeting. "I hope you are doing well."

Peter caught himself grinning at Lucy's own tender smile. "Better than you could believe."

"Oh?" The faun questioned.

"But we'll talk about that later." Lucy pulled out of the hug and grabbed Mr. Tumnus's hand. "For now, you can sit by me."

Their old friend shot a helpless smile Peter's way as his only greeting. The High King smiled back and nodded his understanding. Then, seeing Susan busy with talking to the beavers, Peter decided that it should be himself who would sit first and bring others to follow.

Twenty minutes later, everybody was seated in their own chairs. Most were sat by others that they knew to keep conversation rolling. It seemed to be working because Peter had to almost shout in order to gather everybody's attention.

"My friends!" Peter said, once more. The eyes of every creature in the room landed on him. "I have gathered you all here because you are each a friend of mine or my siblings'." Peter cleared his throat and glanced over to see Susan nod to urge him on. The empty seat to his right was begging him to continue. "But, unlike you may have heard, I did _not_ gather you here to celebrate a victory."

At this, mumbles could be heard across the room as creatures leaned to whisper into each other's ears in confusion.

"No." Peter's commanding voice silenced them, once again. "No. That is not the reason you are here." Peter had almost had to pinch himself to keep from smirking, even just a little. "You are here to celebrate something much greater."

More murmurs were heard, but most of the creatures remained in quiet anticipation.

"We all know that Narnia has been in deep distress for what has been nearly a year, though it seems much longer." At this, nods and grunts of agreement were given. "Well, my friends, it is a great honor for me to announce that that time is now over. Narnia has once again reached the light, though she doesn't yet know it."

Nobody said a thing. Everybody stared, clearly anxious to hear what he had to say next.

"I know you must all be terribly confused - I know I am, myself - so, without further adieu, allow me to introduce to you a dear friend that none of us had expected to see again." Peter nodded to Oreius who then grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open.

All of the creatures turned to see who it could be that would walk through. By the gasps and exclamations that were heard, it was clear that none of them had expected to see their young king - the one who had been lost to them so long ago - walk through in his finest garb and with his crown upon his head. Hardly a bruise from his horrible ordeal remained on his face. Aside from how thin he was, Edmund looked nearly perfectly healthy to anybody who didn't see him on a daily basis.

Peter's little brother smiled timidly as he entered the grand, marble room. Edmund was very nervous and uncomfortable with this, and Peter knew it. He had doubted whether he would be accepted; he wassupposed to be _dead_ after all.

Surely, all the stunned stares did nothing to help Edmund's state, but he continued his way until reaching the empty seat and sitting himself down.

"How is this possible?" Mrs. Beaver asked at last. "I thought the dear was dead - we _all_ did."

Peter nodded. "I believed it myself, but found, not long ago, that my brother was being held by the Calormenes. After discovering this, we uncovered a treacherous plot set up by my brother's own captain. We were betrayed, and that is what led us into battle with Calormen."

Edmund still said nothing; he just kept his head down and seemed more interested in the loose string on the hem of his sleeve.

"My brother was very brave through it all. He never stopped fighting to get back to us." Edmund went ridged at this. Peter knew that his brother didn't believe it. The High King had seen, himself, how broken he was all those months ago when they were first reunited. Peter whispered quietly so that only Susan and Edmund could hear. "He just needed a little reminder of what he was fighting for."

Edmund relaxed a little more and shot Peter a smile.

The rest of what happened went by as most parties did. After they had all finished dinner, everybody had gone about speaking with one another. Each guest had been eager to speak with Edmund. They all pressed him about his time away, and what happened and how he was doing. Peter had remained by Edmund's side to be there to chase anyone away who was making his brother uncomfortable in their questioning. Edmund hadn't even really wanted to talk to _Peter_ about it; he would surely not want to tell someone who wasn't close to him.

Peter's little brother was, by now, looking quite worn. Perhaps a party this soon wasn't a good idea. Edmund wasn't yet used to it all again, and he could get easily agitated by what seemed to others to be the smallest of things. That's why Peter wasn't surprised when Edmund asked for permission to leave only an hour or so into the party.

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Edmund was exhausted. That dinner a taken a lot out of him. Who knew that so much attention could bleed you dry of so much energy. He'd had to leave early. He couldn't explain why - normally he _loved_ parties - but there was no way he could stay there.

Peter had agreed to let Edmund leave, though Edmund was sure that his brother thought he was going straight to his room. _No_. There was one thing he had wanted so badly to do since his return - one friend he wanted to see. What better time to go than when everybody was busy with a party.

"Philip?" Edmund asked as he entered through the dark stable doors. Most of the horses would be asleep by now. "Philip?"

A whinny came from Philip's stall, followed by a familiar voice. "Should I dare to believe that the rumors are true?"

Edmund smiled as he approached the stall. He could not see his friend, but he could feel his course hair under his fingers. "Philip, it's me."

"Your Majesty? Can it be _you_?" Philip asked, hope lacing his voice.

"It's me, Philip." Edmund laughed. "I'm alive."

"Light the lantern at my stall door. I must see your face."

Edmund felt down the side of the door until his fingers found the metal handle of a lantern. He grabbed at the matches next to it and fumbled to get the lantern lit. Once he'd struck the match and lit the lantern, Edmund lifted it back up to Philip who stared with tender eyes at him.

"My King." The horse said, drawing another laugh from Edmund's lips. It never ceased to amaze him how they could spend so much time together - Philip was practically his best friend - and yet the horse would still call him by his formal name. "Please, I must hear the story."

"Well, it's quite a long one."

Philip stomped his hooves. "What kind of steed am I if I cannot share in my master's adventures. If I couldn't be there with you, at least tell me what happened so that I may share it with you in mind."

Edmund smiled, nodded and opened the stall door, ushering himself inside where he sat himself down on the straw. Philip laid beside him and Edmund rested his head against the horse's side, bringing back memories of many past trips and adventures spent like this with his dear friend. "Well, it all started as you may have guessed: on that fateful journey, back in what seems like years ago..."


	41. Grown

**Yeah, so I've been struggling to get out charters soon. I will not abandon this story, but I don't know when I'll be able to write my next chapter.**

 **I only got two reviews last time. I'm still accepting answers to my last question. What are some of the most well written parts or chapters in your opinion**

Peter pulled his nicest tunic over his head. Ziddim's court appearance would be in just an hour and Peter would have to dress his finest. The plan had been to give Edmund his own party to announce his return, but the trial had been moved closer on account of the charges given so they would have to do it there.

Ziddim held his right as a prisoner to demand his trial be _that_ week instead of the next. If they withheld his demand he would have to be freed since no evidence had been presented to prove him a criminal. Peter thought it was a stupid rule, but it was set to keep corrupt rulers from imprisoning their innocent enemies without a proper trial. If they didn't hold that law then a ruler could keep his prisoner for as long as he wanted and continue to say that there would be a trial _eventually_ , but never give one.

So, that's why Peter was getting prepared only two days after the party. The party had been great, aside from Edmund leaving early. After the party was over, Peter had gone to visit his brother in his room, but he was not there. The High King had been terribly worried and almost called a kingdom wide search, but after a half-hour of him and his sisters searching, Lucy had come to say that she had found him fast asleep in the stables with his old friend, Philip.

Peter had nearly forgotten about the bond Edmund held with that horse; they had spent so many years and gone on so many adventures together. Philip was with Edmund on every trip they took - every trip aside from the last one; that was likely organized by Ziddim, as well.

Philip was probably - and Peter didn't want to admit his positivity - on more trips with Edmund than Peter had ever been. The horse cared deeply for his rider and would never let him go anywhere without him - if he could help it, that is.

Once he had pulled on his cape and placed his crown upon his golden locks, Peter left the room and walked down the hall a short ways to Edmund's room. With a quick rap on the door, the High King opened the door and peeked through.

"Come in," Edmund's voice grumbled. "Since you will no matter what I say."

"What's wrong with _you_?" Peter asked as he entered in all the way and shut the large oak door behind him. He turned to see his little brother standing in his under tunic and a pair of Peter's own trousers that had been loaned to him just days before.

"I can't fit in any of my court dressings." Edmund complained.

Peter should have guessed as much. It had been a frequent issue since Edmund's return. It was amazing how much he had grown in the his time gone.

"Just as well, brother." Peter smiled. "You can borrow some of _my_ court dressings."

"But _your_ clothes are too _big_ for me. I'm not as tall as you." Edmund smirked, then added, "Though I _am_ still trying."

"Well," Peter began, giving a slight shrug. "This wouldn't be a problem if you had just stayed the same little Ed, now would it?" Peter teased.

Edmund's smile disappeared and he elbowed Peter playfully in the ribs. "Shut up."

Peter laughed as he rubbed his side where he had been hit. "Alright, fine." He said, slowing his laughter. "I'll send in a request to have some new outfits tailored for you, but you'll still have to wear my clothes, for now."

Edmund groaned, but accepted. " _Fine_. I'll wear it."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Peter's court dressings clung loosely to Edmund's body. They had been able to tuck pieces in well enough to the point where it looked fairly well fitting, but he still couldn't help but feel a little out of place in them. He figured he'd get over it, though, when he was standing before the court and giving his testimony. This, of course, would have to take place after he was officially revealed and declared legally living. All of it was bound to throw off his nerves, but he had to stay focused on the task at hand.

"Are you about ready?" Susan asked, entering from the room where Peter sat, giving a long speech to the courtroom about the happenings of the past months.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Edmund faced her direction as she began to straighten the wrinkles in his -well, Peter's - shirt.

"You'll do just fine." Susan met his eyes and smiled.

Edmund smiled back. "Thank for the encouragement, mum." He teased

Susan chuckled. "I'm the closest you've got."

Edmund nodded. "And I'm grateful for it."

He could see that his sister's eyes shined a little brighter. She turned away and smiled lightly. "Oh, stop it." She laughed. "I'm going to make a scene."

"Nonsense. Nobody could think ill of you for tearing up, sister. You're too respected."

"Stop it! You're gonna make me cry." Susan laughed as she shoved Edmund toward the courtroom door.


	42. How I Died

**Okay! Not gone as long as last time. What a relief! Well, since I'm not getting anymore thoughts on my other question, how about your favorite quotes (or how you remember them said. Don't worry about word for word recounting)?**

Edmund's nerves were getting to him. Peter had just finished explaining the events that had taken place; now it was time for Edmund to come forward and be declared legally alive, once again.

Peter would have to be acting judge since Edmund could not. They had decided earlier that Peter would also judge Ziddim's case, since Edmund was the main victim of his actions, but there would be a jury to decide his guilt.

"And now, I would like to call the first case of two cases that will be seen today." Peter's voice rang out as he commanded, "Allow him to come forth."

The large wood doors cracked in the middle and both sides were drawn apart as two Centaurs opened them, giving Edmund full view of the old courtroom where he had before spent so much of his time. He set off into a walk down the center isle, working his way to front of the room. Edmund refused to make eye contact with anybody other than his brother.

Avoiding gazes couldn't block out the voices, though. Little whispers could be heard all around him. One said, "Can it be?" Another, "So it's true." And still another said, "But he was dead!"

These, of course, were only the ones that could be heard. Edmund was sure that he would run off all together if he could hear the rest of what was said.

The short walk to the judge's chair seemed much longer than it really was. Edmund stopped before the large chair and looked into Peter's eyes. His brother smiled at him, then hardened his gaze as he looked back to the creatures in the courtroom.

"As you can see," Peter's spoke in an authority that only a king or a father could have. "My brother yet lives. We are here to pronounce this truth and to punish the one responsible for his disappearance. He shall give his personal testimony for you to hear and we will call forth witnesses to vouch for it."

Edmund said nothing, but various grunts of agreement could be heard resounding through the court room, accompanied by lingering whispers from the confused subjects

"Well, then. By law of Narnia and in the name of Aslan and his Great Father, The Emperor Across the Sea, I, High King Peter, pronounce King Edmund the Just legally living." Peter hit his gavel against the arm of his chair, finally declaring Edmund's life for all to hear and know.

Edmund smiled gently up at his brother who smiled back. He continued his silence, but have a slight nod of his head to thank Peter.

"Well, Dear Brother, would you kindly step aside so we may bring forward the accused?"

Edmund nodded again and stepped to the side of Peter's chair. The doors from which he had just entered opened once again to reveal the traitorous wolf. Ziddim growled and surely would have snarled if he wasn't muzzled. The minotaur that held the chain connected to Ziddim's steal collar pulled him forward. The creatures all gasped upon seeing who it was that was accused of such a horrific crime. Ziddim was well known around the kingdom as a friend; he frequently helped the locals with their problems or situations. How could such a dear friend be a traitor? Edmund had often wondered the same thing.

Upon arriving at the end of the rows of court pews, the minotaur brought Ziddim to the acused's stand and attached his chains to the metal loop in the stone floor.

The wolf's eyes - eyes that had once only looked on in kindness - stared right into Edmund with a hatred that could only be seen in the gaze of a great enemy. Edmund had never expected to see his friend this way. They had seen so much together; suspicion of betrayal had been non-existent in all of the years they served side by side.

"Edmund." Peter's voice drew him back to the moment. "Would you please take the witness stand?"

When Edmund looked up to his brother he saw the look in his eyes. Peter's eyes looked cautious, as if asking him if he was okay to continue. To be honest, Edmund had to ask himself the same question, but he nodded. To anybody else it looked like he was nodding to answer Peter's _spoken_ question, but both brothers knew what the nod really meant.

Edmund stepped over the witness stand and sat in the chair behind it. He opened his mouth and spoke for the first time since entering the room. The jury - which consisted of many different animals - looked on in amazement at hearing the familiar voice.

"My name is Edmund Pevensie." He began, pausing only to take a look at all the faces before him. "Not so long ago, you all knew me as your king. You and everybody else in Narnia and even the rest of the world thought me dead. Well, I'm here to tell you the story of how I died..."


	43. Testimony

**Just three more follows or favorites until this officially becomes my most popular story!**

 **Next assignment, how about you guys tell me what part shocked you the most about this story?**

 **(Also, would any of you like to know some of the things I put in to predict the future happenings?)**

Edmund's voice was robotic as he recounted the his story. Horrifying details that Peter had not heard before slipped past his brother's lips as if he were reciting no more than a grocery list or something of the sort. Edmund's recountings of beatings and labor were given bluntly and he never went deep into them, but Peter knew the look in his eyes.

With every passing moment Peter grew more and more angry at the all those who caused Edmund these pains. He wished with all he was to be able to slay the wretched wolf and take and comfort his little brother, but he knew that such actions would be ridiculous for a king, such as himself, to do.

"As you can see," Edmund said as he came to close his testimony after telling of Ziddim's actions on the battle field. "I, myself, trusted the captain and loved him as a brother. But I was betrayed, just as you all were, as well."

With Edmund's closing words the courtroom went silent; nobody dared to speak a thing out of shock of the horrifying tale. It was clear that some were struggling to believe it.

The next hour or two were spent with a few soldiers, including Oreius, giving testimony to what they saw on the battlefield. Edmund stared blankly at the opposite wall and Peter knew that he was reliving it all as the stories were told.

The High King composed the sympathetic look - which he had just now realized had taken to his face - and hardened his voice. "The victim has given his testimony as well as his witnesses." He said, once the last soldier had taken his leave from the front. "As you well know, it is now law to give the accused his opportunity to defend himself, if he so wishes."

The High King nodded to the minotaur guard who gave a short bow and began unlocking the muzzle on the wolf's face. Once the task was complete, Ziddim rubbed his snout with his left paw and looked back up to the kings before him, saying nothing at first.

"Well?" Peter asked, getting impatient with the wolf. "Do you so wish? Or perhaps it is that you can find nothing to say for yourself."

Peter concluded, though he soon wished he hadn't.

Ziddim sneered in a way that only a wolf could. "Your Majesty," He began, and Peter knew then that whatever came out of the ex-captain's mouth would not be the words he wanted to hear. "I have nothing to say for myself. I have something to say for your dear _brother_."

Peter would have ended the wolf right there had they not been in a proper setting. _How dare he threaten Edmund!_

"And what would _that_ be?" Peter struggled fiercely not to let something more harsh slip past him.

Ziddim rose his voice loud enough for all in the room to hear clearly. "Have you all forgotten? Or am _I_ the only one who remembers the _Just_ King's treachery." At the following silence, Ziddim continued. "It was _he_ who betrayed his people - who betrayed _Aslan_ to the White Witch! He doesn't care about us, he _never_ has. All of this is because _he_ wanted to rule for himself. I was just only one smart enough to see straight through his little facade."

Murmurs were heard throughout the room as the creatures debated with each other about Ziddim's reasoning. Peter wished he could stop the wolf from continuing, but that would make him a biased judge, and he could be replaced if the people found fault.

Edmund sat silently in his chair, the expression on his face between guilt and sorrow. It seemed that, even once forgiven, the young king would still face ridicule from actions he made as a child.

"Do you doubt me, still?" Ziddim began, once more. "He has already betrayed us before, what is one more time to him? After he is through, _he_ will be sole ruler. He cares for no-one but himself; can't you see from his actions?"

The murmurs grew louder and louder until creatures were starting to rise to shout to each other and to the jury from across the room.

"Don't bother listening the rubbish of that accursed wolf!" Shouted a rabbit.

"Rubbish? What if it's true? He's done it before!" Shouted a faun, who seemed truly split between sides.

"How _dare_ you speak such venom against our king!" Cried an upset minotaur from the far corner of the room.

"He's not _our_ king! Send him back to where he came from!" A dwarf shouted, and Peter wished to be able to hurt him for it.

The High King could take no more after that. He rose from his chair and rapped his gavel loudly on the arm of his chair. "Order!" He shouted. "Order! Order!"

After a few shouts, the court quieted down and Peter was left with the floor. "Have you all forgotten how he has changed? Don't you know him at all?"

Edmund cast his face away from all who tried to seek his gaze.

"How _can_ we know him!" Shouted a female badger.

"Yeah!" A faun agreed. "He's been gone all this time! How do we know all this really happened?"

Peter didn't know what to say. Edmund was really the only one able to defend himself, but he had still not yet said another word.

"It's all a _lie_!" Shouted the dwarf from earlier. "It's a trick! They're all in on it! May Aslan curse them and ban them from the thrones they are not worthy of!"

A few shouts of mob agreement were given to that last comment. The creatures were all in an uproar and nobody could hear Peter's gavel banging. Ziddim smiled cruelly at the two kings, indicating a victory he thought was already won. But the jury still hadn't deliberated. Nothing was won until there was a verdict.

Peter found himself shouting, once more, trying to bring the room back to its sanity. What seemed like an uncontrollable chaos went dead silent at one sound: the roar of a mighty lion shook the courtroom to its very foundation. The creatures in the room all shook with fright at the sound.

Peter glanced over to Edmund, expecting to see surprise, but instead saw his brother's face filled with relief. The High King's gaze was soon distracted, however, as the doors down the center isle suddenly opened, revealing the shape of a large Lion with a glorious mane and paws large enough to crush a human skull underfoot. The Lion's eyes were stern and filled with what Peter could only describe as disappointment.

Small voices whispered to one another as the Great Lion set into a walk down the isle. When the Lion stopped before Peter's chair the High King threw himself to the floor and bowed before it, seeing Edmund do the same beside him.

"Aslan." Peter said keeping his head bowed.

"Rise, Peter. Rise, Edmund." Aslan's voice commanded in a certain gentleness that only he could have. Both brothers obeyed and once they had stood, Aslan spoke again. "Stay beside me."

The Lion turned back to face the crowd, Peter and Edmund moving to stand on either side of him.

"You all, of such little faith," Aslan began. "Do you not trust you're who I have chosen to rule over you?" The crowd remained silent, but many eyes were cast down in disgrace and embarrassment. "You insult _me_ by insulting my children who work so hard to fulfill the jobs I have given to them. You grumble at your Just King for being treasonous when I, myself, have forgiven him and payed the price for him to be freed. Edmund has, indeed, been through everything he described to you and more. He has been through horrors that many of you did not know existed." Aslan turned to Peter's brother. "Show them."

Edmund nodded, as if understanding exactly what He meant. Peter's brother untucked the borrowed dressings and tunic; he turned around, allowing his back to face the crowd. Edmund lifted the tunic, leaving his bare back visible to nearly all those in the room.

Gasps could be heard resounding through the room. Peter had to stifle an exclamation himself; he'd never seen the scars before now, scars that streaked across his little brother's back in disarrayed fashion. Edmund had always been very private, especially since he'd returned home. The only one who really ever had access to his scars were Susan - only because of her persistent mothering attitude - and the healers, who sometimes _had_ to have Edmund remove his shirt.

Once a few seconds had passed, Edmund lowered his shirt, turning back to the crowd, but keeping his head down and eyes averted. Peter would have gone to comfort him, but he knew that Edmund would defiantly _not_ appreciate it in this setting.

Aslan nodded his satisfaction and turned back to the crowd. "I believe I have said all I have desired. Your jury may decide for themselves from here."

As the jury left the courtroom, Aslan turned back to Peter and Edmund. "You two have done well, My Sons. I do not believe you will need me here, any longer."

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but was surprised when it was Edmund who spoke first. "Must You leave, _now_?"

The Great Lion chuckled softly. "I will see you again before too long, Dear One."

"But, Aslan," Peter said. "How can we get on without You? You saw how it went, how it's _all_ gone." And Peter meant more than just the trial.

Aslan just smiled gently. "There is nowhere you can go, Child, that I will not be with you. Both of you."


	44. Undeserving

**So, since you guys would like, I'll tell you a couple of things I tucked in into my story. This one is all the way back toward the beginning of the story: chapters 6-9 are named (6) "The Angel", (7) "The Slave", (8) "The Gentle" and (9) "The King". The Angel refers to Lucy, The Slave refers to Edmund, The Gentle refers to Susan and the King could refer to either Aslan or Peter, but saying it's Peter that puts Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter in order of youngest to oldest. The Slave was referring to Umed in that chapter and he had not yet been revealed, so anybody taking a close look would see the prediction of Umed becoming Edmund.**

 **Second, Zebah's name means sacrifice. Third Ziddim means betrayal**.

 **That's all I got for you guys. Did anybody catch onto these before? And what part of my story brought out the most emotion in you? Joy, sadness, excitement, anticipation, etc.**

Edmund's heart beat heavily inside of him. He'd left the courtroom as soon as he was aloud, avoiding the gazes of the creatures as he passed by. Edmund could hear Peter's footsteps patter against the stone as he ran to catch up to him; the footsteps slowed once his brother was walking beside him.

Edmund said nothing, but he could feel Peter's wary stare upon him, deciding if it would wise to speak. After a few long moments, it appeared that he'd decided.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, concern lacing the edges of his voice.

Edmund nodded, but he still kept his eyes averted. "I'm fine."

"Well," Peter began, his voice still seeming a little unsure. "If you are so sure that you're fine, I have a few things to discuss with you."

"Such as?" Edmund's feet still kept in a constant stride, directing him toward their private quarter hallways.

"We both know that Ziddim couldn't have acted alone. He's got an accomplice or possibly more than one. We have to decide our next course of action."

Edmund stopped before the door to Peter's study and opened it, allowing Peter then himself to enter in. He threw himself down onto one of the chairs - the same chair, he realized, as the one he sat in when he revealed himself to his brother just a few months before.

Peter remained standing. "So, what do you think we should do?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the High King, you can decide that." Edmund grumbled.

"Ed!" Peter's voice nearly made Edmund jump in surprise. "You're my _brother_. I care about your opinion in this matter and every other. Nobody was hurt more by their actions than you."

Edmund cast his eyes down. He knew he wasn't acting the way that he should as a king of Narnia. Though he still didn't exactly consider himself king yet, he knew that his behavior was bad off and entirely inappropriate. "I'm sorry, Pete."

Edmund could hear his brother sigh heavily and he looked up to meet Peter's eyes directly. "What would you like to do about our problem?"

Edmund thought for a moment. There were many different courses of action they could take. He could only imagine - though he was sure he could guess fairly accurately - what Peter's own opinion would be. If Peter could choose for himself, he would send the army on a hunt across the country to find anybody responsible, having them executed on the spot. It was a bold thing to think, but Edmund knew it was true. Peter would never go as far as to go through with an idea such as that, but he would certainly want to. Edmund had a rather different idea from what his brother would be thinking.

"We make an announcement." Edmund said at last.

"An announcement?" Peter seemed confused by now, which he should be.

"We offer grace to whoever comes forward on their own. We hunt down the ones who think they can hide." Edmund braced himself for what he knew was coming.

"What? You want to give them _mercy_?"

Edmund nodded. "I do."

"How? They're traitors, they deserve to die." Peter said, an icy tone in his voice.

"So did I." Edmund could see the affect his words had on his brother. Peter froze his movements, the look in his eyes changing from one of confusion to one of guilt. Edmund did his best to hide any emotion from his eyes. Those years were long passed. Hardly anybody thought of them before today.

"I'm sorry, Ed. That was unfair of me to say."

"It's okay, Pete. I can't imagine being you," Edmund stared past his brother, becoming so suddenly lost in his thoughts that he was barely aware that he was even still speaking. "Not knowing what it's like. Not knowing what it's like to feel so lost. I can't imagine not knowing the feeling of coming home and feeling as though I don't belong. I can't imagine not knowing what it's like to be a stranger among friends. Everybody has treated me as if I've done some great deed. I can't imagine not knowing the feeling of- of-" Edmund couldn't find it in him to continue. His throat constricted and tears stung his eyes.

"The feeling of returning home and being the hero that feel you cannot be. The feeling of seeing peace while you're still fighting a battle that you know has already been won. It's that it, brother? Is that the feeling?" Peter asked.

Edmund stared blankly at him for a few moments. Had he judged Peter wrong? "How could you know?"

"It is how all the old Narnian warriors speak of coming back from long fought wars. I, myself, have only ever fought small battles and campaigns; I could never really know the feeling. I know only what I hear from those who sacrificed the most for Narnia."

Edmund shook his head. "I've never fought through a war. I'm no warrior like they are. I don't deserve the title or the praise I am given."

"You did fight a war, Ed. You've been through as much pain and abuse as any of them." Peter assured, though Edmund couldn't say that it was comforting.

"And how did they get trough it?"

Peter knelt down before Edmund's chair - an eerie reminder of the last time they had sat this way. "They got through it the same way you will: by letting your family help you, even if we can't understand what you've been through."

Edmund nodded. He wished he could just say yes and throw himself into Peter's arms, making everything okay, but that wasn't the reality of it. Edmund knew that his brother was right, but he wasn't sure when or even _if_ he would be ready to talk about what he'd been through. Everybody always says that talking helps, but was he willing to lay such things upon his family's shoulders? They had all helped him pull through and get over his time with the White Witch, but they still didn't know all the details of his captivity with her; Aslan had told them not to speak to him of what was passed, so they never did unless it was Edmund who had initiated it.

One thing Edmund knew was that he was ever so grateful that his family was here for him, even if he couldn't yet accept them. The thought that there was someone for him whenever he felt in need was a comforting one.

"So is that a yes to my idea?" Edmund asked, allowing a small smirk to play on his face.

Peter smiled back. "You sure have a way of getting what you want."


	45. The Right One

**Where'd everybody go? I haven't been gone _that_ long, have I? Well, I guess we're still on what moment** **brought out the most emotion in you. So, what did? And what emotion was it? Joy, sadness, shock? Let me know in the reviews. :)**

"Guilty."

The word rang above the all the ones before it, bearing relief and filling Peter's - and surely Edmund's - heart with overwhelming relief. Ziddim never gave any indication that he heard his last hope being willed away by the command of the subjects; he sat with his ears bent back, staring at the floor like he had been since the court re-gathered, surely knowing that his case was lost.

Glancing over to Edmund, Peter smiled at the look on his face. Edmund didn't grin or laugh, he just looked at Peter with sense of finality. He knew his brother well enough to know that, though he didn't show it, Edmund was happy.

"Sentence!" Shouted a voice from the crowd. "What is his sentence?"

Peter's eyes didn't leave his brother's. He searched Edmund's brown orbs, looking for a clue of what he would want. Peter would have immediately sentenced the wolf to death, having to no longer put up with him, but Edmund had argued his point, if not with his words then with the look in his eyes.

Turning back to the crowd, Peter spoke, "Cousins," He began. "This traitor was brought before us under most outrageous accusations and you have called him guilty. The one guilty of these crimes is deserving of our utmost punishment. You would say death, would you not?"

Shouts of agreement resounded through the courtroom.

"Well, death would be a kinder fate than a criminal such as this deserves." After glancing over to Edmund, who nodded his continuation, Peter spoke again, "We shall mark him with the brand of a traitor and send him into the wilderness, never to enter Narnia again and never to be accepted by the other lands because of his scar."

Grumbles of confusion followed Peter's words. The Narnian people knew well enough of their High King's nature, and this was certainly not it.

"By law of Narnia" Peter began. "And in the name of Aslan and his Great Father, The Emperor Across the Sea, I, High King Peter, sentence Ziddim, son of Zarreah, to banishment from this country and to rejection from all others by the brand of the traitor, thereby making him repulsive to any who might otherwise be deceived into providing hospitality for him. Never again shall he belong. Never again shall he have a home or a people."

Peter could see that some of the creatures were unsatisfied with this development; he couldn't blame them, Peter, himself, had had to force the words past his lips. How he wished he could have killed the traitor, himself, on the battlefield or, better yet, before he had caused all of this chaos. Things would be so much more simple. But the important thing was that Edmund was happy and Ziddim's life would be forced into a greater amount of difficulty than Peter would have wished on _anybody_ \- aside from Ziddim himself, or perhaps Judas.

Never before in the history of the Pevensies' reign had they sentenced _anybody_ to this fate. The death penalty had been given before, but to be sent into the world alone to fight for your life or die trying to survive. To suffer through the bitter winter cold in the late seasons with you and yours to warm you. To know that because of a simple scar you will be spat at and cursed at. To be refused from any home or inn. To be looked down upon by all. This was a worse suffering than if Ziddim were to be ended now.

Though it wasn't technically illegal to treat the one marked as a traitor with kindness, everybody knew that you would be looked down upon for doing so. To serve the traitor was as close to sharing his fate as could be without receiving the same sentence. It was difficult to understand the intensity of the situation unless you lived it yourself. Luckily Peter would never have to understand, he'd only have to condemn others to a fate that can never touch him, a fate that can never hurt him.

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

"Oh, Edmund!" Edmund had to brace himself for the weight of his little sister as Lucy threw her arms around his neck and hopped into his arms, her shoes resting on their tips against the carpeted floor of the siblings' sitting room. "We heard the news!"

"Careful, Lucy," Susan scolded as she came to a stop before the pair. "He's not yet fully healed, you'll hurt him."

Lucy pulled away, but still kept close to Edmund's side. "Well, it wouldn't be a problem if he'd just let me give him some of my cordial." She hinted innocently.

Edmund chuckled lightly. "I shouldn't like you to waste it on me. I'll be just fine in a week or two. You'll see."

Lucy only rolled her eyes, indicating that it had been a response she expected, but still disagreed with.

"He's right, Lu," Said Peter, stepping up from behind Edmund and resting an affectionate hand on his shoulder. "He's been through quite a lot already; I think he can get past _this_ without a crutch."

"It's not a crutch." Lucy argued, crossing her arms and taking defensive stance. "It's my healing cordial."

"Which," Edmund broke in, once more. "Should be saved for a time when we really need it."

Lucy seemed to contemplate this for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "At least I can say that I tried."

Edmund smiled but his attention was soon turned back when Susan spoke to Peter, "I heard what you said after the sentence was given." She spoke softly. "Do you think that's really wise?"

Edmund recalled the looks on the faces of all those in the courtroom upon hearing Peter's offer of mercy to Ziddim's accomplices. Surely, by now, everybody thought him on the edge of madness. Though none of it was really Peter's idea, he was still the one to deliver the news. Nearly every word that flowed past Peter's lips was the opposite of what he really wished to say. It touched Edmund's heart to know that his brother would push past his every instinct to fulfill the wishes of someone he cared for - especially when that someone was him.

Peter's blue eyes flicked momentarily to Edmund's brown ones, but they lingered only for a few fleeting moments before they turned back to Susan. "Everybody deserves a second chance; only those willing to accept it will be shown mercy. It may not have been the wise decision, but it was the right one."


	46. Knock at the Door

**Finally! This is officially my most successful story! Thanks to narniagirl15, Melalda and Anna3422 (and whoever else may have followed or favorited within the past couple days) for following my story and pushing me just over my (now) second most popular story, Desperate Times (a Hobbit fanfic for those who don't know).** **Alone Together is officially my most popular and loved story.**

 **Still been missing some of my reviewers. Where are ya? In all that time gone, I only hear from _two_ of you! Oh well, I suppose I'll have to move to the next question: What part brought you closest to tears? It's hard for me to get distressed about my own writing, since I know what's going to happen, so I would love to hear your thoughts!**

"Your Majesty!" Cried a particularly exhausted sounding voice. "Your Majesty!"

Edmund followed Peter's lead as the High King turned to address this newcomer. The elaborately decorated walls of the Pevensies' private, royal hallway was darkened slightly by the arrival of one more shadow.

It had been two days since Ziddim had been banished from Narnia and and only three days until Edmund's coronation was to take place. _Aslan, please don't let this be another problem_ , The younger king found himself silently wishing. _Haven't we got enough already?_

A dwarf stopped just short of the two kings and dropped to one knee before them. "My King." He said looking up to Peter.

Peter glanced to Edmund, then back down to the dwarf. "I think you mean to say, 'my kings'." He corrected.

The dwarf seemed momentarily befuddled. When he looked from Peter over to Edmund, his eyes widened with surprise, his grey, thick, hairy eyebrows rising, creating more lines in his already wrinkled forehead. "My greatest apologies," He said, lowering his head in a humbling bow, his grey, streaked black, hair falling over his shoulders in the process. "I did not realize. I.. I had heard that you had returned to us, my Just King, but I had not expected to see you for myself - at least not so soon."

Edmund smirked, lightly, at the irony. Just days ago he was a slave, serving under a cruel master, but now? Now he was standing in rich ornate halls next to his majestic brother, having to quiet a dwarf who is apologizing for not noticing him sooner. How many times had he been ignored and avoided while in captivity? Edmund did not know. It was the primary goal of a slave to fulfill his duties in an inconspicuous manner, so as to avoid any attention. Attention caught in a place like that usually meant a beating. It was a comfort to see that somebody would actually be honored by his presence and not desire to do him harm.

"It's alright, Good Cousin." Edmund assured the dwarf, who raised his head at being addressed. "I can assure you that your good manners delighted me so much that I hadn't even noticed the discrepancy."

The dwarf smiled at Edmund's words, his wrinkles now forming at either side of his mouth, rather than his forehead. A more appealing look, Edmund decided.

"You flatter me, Sire." The dwarf said. The smile then faded back to the look of business he had on his face when he first appeared, and he turned back to Peter. "But I'm afraid I must trouble His Majesty, the High King."

"Please," Peter nodded. "Tell me what you must. I do hope it is nothing of too great concern."

"That, I suppose, can only be decided by yourself, My King." The dwarf said, fiddling nervously with his whiskers. "You see, newcomers have just arrived. They claim to have been sent here by the Tisroc of Calormen."

Peter's brows knit in confusion. "They are _soldiers_?"

The old dwarf shook his head. "No, Sire, they are _not_. They don't look to be Calormene at _all_."

Edmund watched as Peter's face contorted into a look of what seemed to be recognition. He turned at once and began walking, suddenly. Edmund had to jog slightly to catch up with him, and the dwarf soon appeared at Peter's other side.

"My King? What shall I do?"

"Show them to the throne room." Peter stared straight ahead as he spoke. He didn't seem upset. He seemed set in his mission of great importance. "King Edmund and I will speak with them. I have a feeling I know exactly who they are."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

"What's going on, Pete?" Edmund asked for what seemed like the hundredth time since the dwarf had come, bearing news of strangers at the door. Now that they were finally inside the thrown room, Peter seemed more intent on answering that nagging question.

"I never told you _my_ conditions for the battle, did I?" Though it had been asked, Peter had said it more as a statement of fact.

Edmund contemplated a moment. It had been quite clear what Judas wanted from a battle victory; the foul Calormene man had always been a Coral Snake, lingering among the Milk Snakes, thinking that because he looked like them and mimicked their behavior, he could pass on and not be noticed. But the Milk Snakes had seen how his pattern was different from their own, and they knew that he could never be trusted; for, though a Coral Snake may disappear inside the hoard of Milk Snakes, he is still a Coral Snake, nonetheless. And his venom drips all the more deadly with every moment that they aren't sinking into the flesh of some poor, unsuspecting victim.

But while Judas's intentions were obvious, since he had been unable to keep his fangs clean, Peter never told of what _he_ demanded.

"I don't believe you did." Edmund said at last.

"Well, you see, brother," Peter began, taking a first pacing step in front of his throne. "I was given my chance, so I took it."

Edmund was almost scared to ask. "Your chance to do _what_?"

"My chance to get _you_ back." Peter said simply, continuing his pacing between his and Susan's thrones.

 _Of course. Why did I even have to ask?_ It was clear, already, that Peter would never have passed up an opportunityopportunity like that. Edmund couldn't blame him - he would have done the same - in fact, he was glad that Peter had taken action when he had seemingly abandoned Edmund to a life of slavery.

"What did you demand of him?" Edmund asked after a few prolonged moments of empty silence.

Peter shrugged. "It was the only way - and I, by no means, regret it - but it _will_ mean that we shall have a bit of a job on our hands."

Edmund sighed. He wished that Peter would just _finally_ get to the point. " _What_ did you _demand_ of him?"

"I did what anybody in their right mind would do." Peter said, halting his pacing to meet Edmund's eyes. "I demanded that Judas free all of his house slaves. I would have demanded he freeall of _Calormen's_ slaves if I thought Judas would take the risk."

" _What_?" Edmund asked, astonished. It wasn't that he was upset with his brother's choice or disappointed that these slaves should be freed, but there was so much more to consider. "And you invited them _here_?"

"I did." Peter lowered his head, likely cursing his own stupidity.

"Where are we going to find the time to provide for them? Judas had _hundreds_ if not _thousands_ of slaves. What are we supposed to do with them all?"

An operation like this would not be cheap. Sure, they were the kings of Narnia, but they had to think of their _country's_ wellbeing before inviting a ton of slaves to join in. Winter would be upon them in near two months, and they had already begun storing up food for the winter. They hadn't prepared for this, which meant that there wouldn't be enough resources to go around.

"We'll think of _something_." Peter assured, though Edmund couldn't say that it helped, any. "They, surely, must have family _somewhere_ that we could send them to. I can't imagine many, if any of them, are really Narnians."

"Perhaps not, but have you considered how many of the slaves grew _up_ as slaves? They might know nothing _but_ being a slave, and that would mean no family and no knowledge of how the world works."

Peter seemed to think this over for a few moments before his eyes lit up. "Then we have them work - for pay, I mean. We find homes for them either here or in our allied countries and set up work for them to earn their keep, and teach them what they must know."

Edmund wasn't so sure how they would like he idea of work. They were _slaves_ after all. All the work they had done each had a traumatic memory to go along with it.

Peter must have seen the uncertainty on Edmund's face, for he continued on. "They must learn to work wherever they go, Ed. At least here we can _teach_ them before they go off on their own. They would be lost, otherwise."

Edmund pursed his lips and nodded, slowly, in understanding. "And do you really think we can pull it off before winter?"

The smirk that appeared on Peter's fair face told Edmund what his brother's answer would be. "Of course we can. We'll be able to compete that task, and even have your coronation, as planned." Peter ruffled Edmund's hair affectionately, the way that a brother does. "You'll see."


	47. Guests

**So yeah, Wednesday and Thursday we had no Wi-Fi, so I wasn't able to write those days. I've been feeling a little under the weather from an infection that I got the other day, so it's been a little rough. I promise that I will finish this story, no matter what. Just stick with me through my publishing gaps.**

 **How about a new assignment?** **Have I done favorite one on one moment, yet? If not, what is your favorite one on one moment?**

"You are kind, Your Majesty." A feed slave man - the one who had spoken for the other freed - said as he bowed his head in respect before Peter. "Your reputation precedes you. How can we expect to thank you for this all?"

Peter rose one hand. "No need, My Friend. It was I who feed you and put you into this situation; it would be quite unfair of me to abandon you to it."

The two had been speaking of arrangements for near an hour now, and Edmund was getting tired of all the humble exchanges of apologies and gratitude. He'd never been one for fine words or well spoken humility. He never cared if his soldiers or subjects called him 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness', 'Sire' or 'My Lord', 'King Edmund' or 'My Just King'. They were all just names, and he was just a person - a person who had made many mistakes, and likely deserved a crown less than the majority of those who praised him. Did they even know what they praised him for?

Edmund had given up standing long ago. His throne was a much more comfortable place to watch from than his feet were. Of course, Peter would insist to stand at all times to ensure that his guests never felt out of place. He always said that it made them more comfortable, though Edmund could never understand why.

Every once in a while, one or two of the slaves would cast Edmund a pondering glance, as if they were trying to decide if they knew him or not - which they likely did. He wished he could say that he knew _them_ , but he never exactly took the time to get to know the other slaves. Edmund wasn't sure if he wanted to get to know _anybody_ again, after what happened to Zebah. If he had never met Zebah, the young boy might still be alive today. He couldn't help beating himself up about it; he had been responsible.

Thoughts of Edmund's lost friend were quickly distracted when his eyes were caught by those of another. One of the slaves stared intently into him, piercing through him with her intense gaze. The woman's eyes held no question in them. She knew who he was. And Edmund was startled to find that he knew her - or at least had met her. Out of all the slaves in Judas's home, Edmund had come close to none, but he remembered, clearly, the moment he had last seen this woman.

"Are we all settled, then?" Peter's voice broke through Edmund's thoughts, and he looked away from the women, who had yet to break her stare.

The freed man smiled and nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. I thank you for your generosity. We shall not take it lightly, I can assure you."

"I shall have one of my guards show you to the guests' quarters." Peter nodded to one of the Centaurs at the throne room doors.

According to his King's command, the Centaur nodded back and escorted the freed out of the room. The woman was forced to break contact as she was ushered out of the room, but Edmund was sure he would see her again, before too much time had passed.

Once both brothers were alone again, Peter spoke up. "That wasn't _too_ overbearing."

Edmund groaned, sarcastically. "Maybe not for _you_. It was _much_ too boring. It's times like this that make me glad that I am only the _Just_ King."

Edmund's brother chuckled - one of the many sounds that he could never get enough of, anymore. "You didn't see any of your friends, did you?" Peter teased, lightly.

"Ha ha." Edmund mocked. "You know I don't make friends."

"Never unless you're forced to. Mum would despise herself if she knew that one of her children grew to be some lonely hermit." Peter couldn't help laughing at his own remark. Edmund, himself, had trouble keeping a smirk off his face.

"I'm _not_ a hermit. I have you, don't I? And Susan, and Lu."

"Siblings don't count, Ed. You're hopeless."

"Whatever." Edmund grumbled, rising from his throne.

 _Thwap!_

A stinging pain exploded in Edmund's head. He fell, knocked to the floor by some, seemingly invisible, force.

"Ed!" He could hear his brother's voice calling, but he was too stunned to answer back. Two warm hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him up, carefully, into a seated position. "Ed, can you hear me?"

"P-Pete?" Was all Edmund managed to get out.

Another _thwap!_


	48. Assaulted

**Glad to have at least a couple reviews last chapter, but I'm still missing a couple of my regular reviewers.**

 **Still looking for favorite one on one moments. If anybody is having trouble knowing what I mean, one on one moments are times when it was just two people having a moment together. It's like with Peter and Edmund speaking together alone, or Susan and Lucy, Aslan and Edmund etc...**

 **Also, I wasn't really planning on entering in Susan and Lucy learning that it was Edmund that was arrested for Peter's poisoning, but I can try to integrate it if you would like?**

"Ed!" Peter cried, dropping to his knees at his brother's side. He'd heard the sound of an arrow leaving its string, but only just turned in time to see Edmund fall to the floor.

Peter placed his hands on both of Edmund's shoulders and pulled him up, attempting to look him over for his injury.

"P-Pete?" Edmund's voice sounded small and afraid, but at least he was speaking.

 _Thwap!_

Peter felt a white hot pain explode in his right shoulder. _Idiot!_ He cursed himself. _Never let your guard down in the presence of enemies!_ Oreius's teachings had come too late into mind. Now, he was paying for it with an arrow jutting out of his shoulder.

Resting Edmund back down and turning to face his unknown foe, Peter drew Rhindon from its sheath and held it at the ready, prepared for any attack that might come.

"Guards!" Peter shouted, though he feared it may be a while before any came to his aid.

 _Thwap!_

With a instinctive flick of his wrist, Peter deflected the arrow that flew straight at his head from the darkness of a pillar in the corner of the room.

"Show yourself, you coward!" The High King commanded in a voice as authoritative as he could muster. "Face me yourself - or are you too afraid? Too afraid that I will win, so you think you must hide behind a bow to protect yourself."

"Not afraid." A voice said from behind the pillar. Quiet footsteps resounded through the throne room as the kings' attacker stepped out of the shadows. "Just too smart for your tricks." Said the same voice, though this time Peter could see who spoke the words.

He traced the notched arrow down to the string of the bow, then the face of his perpetrator. "You're a Red Dwarf." Peter's vocal conclusion must have made him sound quite dimwitted. Of course he was a Red Dwarf; it wasn't like the dwarf couldn't know that already!

"Aye, and you're just a boy." The dwarf said, his light colored beard bouncing with every word.

"I am your _king_." Peter could think of nothing else to say after being insulted so. A _boy_? He was tired of people constantly treating him as if he were a child. He wasn't a boy anymore; he had grown up - at least his mind had. Sure, his body still may be young and maturing, but Peter had grown up long ago. He was the High King of Narnia, now. There was no way could still be a child, even if he wanted to be.

"You're no king of mine." The Red Dwarf let his arrow fly, but Peter easily deflected it as he had done with the one before.

It was quite clear that this must surely be one of Ziddim's accomplices. Unfortunate that he didn't take the offer of mercy, but Peter couldn't help but find a little pleasure in it. If he wasn't worried sick over Edmund's state, then he might even be having fun. It's not every day that he's given a free chance to pay back one of the creatures who could think to hurt his poor little brother - even after all that he'd already been through.

More arrows flew, expertly aimed for Peter's vital organs, but the young king was able to easily deflect them, taking careful steps forward to close the distance between himself and his foe. It was clear to see that the Red Dwarf became more alarmed the closer that Peter got. The next few arrows flew sloppily - most not even worth deflecting.

"Drop your bow and fight me!" Peter command, once he stood near two yards away from the archer.

The dwarf reached back to draw another arrow from his quiver, but his fingers gripped empty air. Taking a short glance over his shoulder, the dwarf mumbled something under his breath, and threw his bow to the ground beside him. The Red Dwarf pulled a sword, designed for his own size, out of the sheath at his side, holding it tightly with both hands in a white knuckle grip.

"I don't have to beat you to know I've hurt you." The dwarf growled. "How does it feel to know that one of your own would desire to hurt you? Do you feel like you've failed? Cause that's how we feel. You may best me, but that doesn't mean that you'll win."

Peter tightened his jaw and gripped Rhindon's hilt more steadily. The only thing he had to answer _that_ was a swing of his sword. The dwarf brought up his own sword and stopped Rhindon in mid path. Again, Peter swung his sword, and again, the dwarf stopped the blow. The exchange lasted only a few moments, with Peter delivering the most attacks, before it came to an abrupt end. The High King had sent a couple more swings before he found his chance and took it. The next moment, the Red Dwarf lay dead at his feet with one deep sword wound straight through him.

"Sire?" Peter was drawn out of his dazed state by Oreius's deep voice. "What has happened?"

The Centaur entered in through the previously closed door with two more guards behind him.

"Ed." Was all that could come out of his mouth. "Edmund." Peter's head turned from side to side as he tried to recall where he'd last left his brother. It was strange how the thrill of battle could throw you into a dazed sort of dream and make you forget some of the most important things.

A groan from the direction of the thrones set Peter into a sprint. He came to a halt only when he reached his brother's side, where he sank down to his knees. Edmund had been able to push himself to his elbows, and he now shot his eyes about in a frenzied motion, as if trying to decide on what object he should rest his gaze upon.

"Ed?" Peter asked, trying to get his brother's attention. Blood trickling from Edmund's hairline quickly set his heart rate up a notch.

"Pete?" Edmund asked, finally turning his eyes to meet Peter's. "Why does my head feel like it's about to explode?"

The High King immediately noticed how his brother's pupils seemed far larger than normal. He gently placed one hand to the back of Edmund's head and lifted the crown from his dark locks, setting it aside to examine the source of the blood. A fair sized gash was visible on the side of Edmund's temple, oozing droplets of blood. It looked rather nasty, but it was preferable to what injuries Peter had feared his brother might have - _should_ have?

"This is where the arrow hit you?" Peter asked, looking around for the arrow that had been shot at his little brother, but it was not in his immediate sight.

Edmund's brow furrowed. "Arrow? What arrow? What's going on?"

 _Oh great._ _Not only an injured brother, but a concussed one, too_.

"We should get him to the healers." Oreius's voice interrupted Peter's thoughts. The Centaur stood not ten feet behind the two brothers. "As well as yourself, My King."

Peter nodded, rising steadily to his feet and offering a hand to Edmund. The younger brother accepted and, with a little help from Peter, rose to his feet, and wobbled there, shakily. The High King then fetched Edmund's crown from the floor, but stopped when something on it caught his eye. A slight dent was visible in the silver leaves right where his brother's wound would be.

Peter could stare only in shock for a few moments as he realized that Edmund's life was saved only by the crown he wore.


	49. Well Wishes

**Alright guys! Happy with my reviews last chapter. Keep it up!**

 **This time, give me your favorite written POV for me. It can be anybody that I've written a POV for throughout this story.** **Either one instance of a POV or one person that you look forward to read their POV throughout the story.**

 **Also, do you guys want to see me do the coronation? I have mixed feelings about it. I feel like Ed might want to have one in order to be King again, but that's not really the message I want to send. I don't believe that becoming a slave would leave him bare of his rightful title as King. I mean, "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia" right? I guess I'll leave it up to you, though.**

The pounding in Edmund's skull seemed to be getting worse by the minute. The brightness of the healing quarters did nothing to ease the pain. The whole world seemed to move around him in a dance he did not know. He felt incredibly tired, but every time he tried to lie down on his cot and sleep he was awakened by the healers pestering him and telling him to stay awake.

"You may go to sleep after I finish giving you your medicine." The all too familiar voice of Iason, the master healer, said to him for what must be the fifth time.

The healer drew another foul smelling concoction up to Edmund's lips, assisting him in tilting his head back, and allowing the liquid to seep down his throat. The potion tasted as bad as it smelled, though Edmund couldn't say that he was surprised.

Once he had finished forcing down the vile drink, Edmund wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Is all of this _really_ necessary?"

"It is," Peter said from the cot beside him. "If you don't want to deal with a headache for the nex-" A quiet hiss of pain interrupted, emanating from the the older brother's lips as a nurse tightened the bandage around Peter's shoulder.

"Are you alright, Pete?" Edmund asked. "You've hurt yourself, I see." At that, the look on his brother's face seemed a little irritated, as if, perhaps, he'd been asked that question one too many times that day.

"You don't remember, do you?" Peter asked, though it sounded more like a statement of fact. Surely Edmund was missing something.

"What's happened?"

Peter shook his head. "I'll tell you later, Ed. It can wait."

"But what about your injury? Is it bad?" Edmund asked, clutching his head as another wave of pain hit him. "I do hope it's not as bad as this bloody headache."

"Don't bother worrying about me. It's just a scratch, really. Don't know what all this fuss is about." The older brother just shrugged. He tried to hide the wince that followed, but the brothers had been together long enough to know when each other were masking pain. Peter could hide nothing from him. "Just drop it, Ed." Peter said after a few uncomfortable moments under Edmund's stare.

Edmund knew when Peter had had enough and this was enough. If it was anything too serious, he would know. They were brothers, after all. They could never keep something like that from one another.

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Peter's shoulder throbbed sharply even a week after the attack. Luckily, Edmund's memory had almost completely returned after the first day, but the confusion had lasted even longer. It seemed like they would never be able to hold the coronation - at least not at the rate they were moving at, now.

"I'm done with you!" Peter almost smirked at the sound of his angry brother's voice, entering the throne room from behind. "I just wish I could take a nice stroll through the Cair without you constantly on my back!"

"But, Your Majesty-"

"I don't-" Edmund took a deep relaxing breath - most likely to keep his head on straight. "I don't want to hear anymore about it. I just want to be left _alone_. Is that too much to ask?"

"Ed." Peter's own voice rang out. "Please don't yell at the guard. It was _my_ idea to have him follow you."

Peter's brother halted at his side, glaring daggers his way. "I figured I had you to thank for this."

"I knew you wouldn't be happy, but I'd rather deal with a grumpy brother than a dead one."

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself." Edmund grumbled.

Peter had to suppress a burst of laughter, but he could not prevent the smile that crept into the corners of his mouth. "And we both know where _that_ gets you. _Whenever_ I let you look after yourself, you basically go _looking_ for trouble. I'm not about to lose you again."

Edmund said nothing at first; he just pursed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine." He said, at last. "But I don't have to like it."

"Peter!"

Both brother's heads were immediately drawn to the voice of Susan as she and Lucy entered the throne room. The elder of the sisters carried a role of paper in her left hand, and walked hurriedly to meet them at Peter's throne.

"What is it, Su?" Peter asked as both he and Edmund turned in unison to face the two girls.

A smile appeared on Susan's face as she opened up the parchment in her hand. Peter could see the shadow of a red seal through the paper, but he couldn't tell whose seal it was.

"Who's it from?" Edmund asked before Peter got the chance to.

"The new Tisroc of Calormen sends his regards and wishes of great prosperity." Susan said. "And there's more..."


	50. Sane

**50 chapters! I never expected to go this far. I can't even believe it myself. To be honest, I didn't really know where I was going with this story when I first started writing it. It's been quite the rollercoaster.**

 **So, where are all of you at? I only got one review last chapter, and I had hoped to get some more answers to those questions. Please get back to me? I want to get as many opinions as possible.**

 **Next, on a scale of 1-10 how have you enjoyed this story? Comparing to other fics, that is. Not comparing to real books. I'm no C.S. Lewis. ;)**

"He's really doing it. I mean... he's really doing it?" Peter couldn't straighten the look of shock out of his features. Never in all of his years in Narnia had he ever considered the possibility as even remote.

Lucy smiled her big, cheery smile - the one that could make the cruelest of people feel a shimmer of compassion - as she stood on her two giddy feet. "I knew this all had to be for _something_. Aslan had a plan all along. Oh, now I feel foolish for ever doubting Him."

"Don't, Lu." Edmund assured, sobering the whole room with the look of deep concentration that fell over his face. "I'm not sure I would have even taken the chance to listen to Him if I thought that one of you had been lost. I don't know how you managed it."

"Well," Peter looked over the faces of his three younger siblings. "You _were_ always a bit of a pain."

Lucy gasped in and opened her mouth wide in shock at Peter's response.

"Peter!" Susan scolded, shoving him back a step with her, not-so-delicate hands.

"Shut up!" Edmund elbowed him hard in his ribcage, but a smile crept onto his face, denying his actions.

"I'm kidding!" Peter defended, throwing his arm around his little brother's shoulders and ruffling his dark hair. Edmund tried to throw him off, but all efforts were fruitless. "We missed you, little brother. I'm not sure we'd have lasted much longer if you hadn't returned."

"Now that's the kind of response I expected to get." Edmund grumbled, finally succeeding in removing himself from Peter's affectionate hold.

"So," Peter began. "When should I expect a visit from his _majesty_?"

Susan reopened the scroll, not bothering to look up as she answered the question. "Well, it might take him months to get anywhere if he succeeds at all. It's a matter of 'if and when' I suppose."

Peter bit his lip, gently. "Unfortunately, I suspect the Calormene people will not be so complying with their new king's decision. He'll have to be careful of how he goes about it, if he wants to remain on their good side."

"That's just it," Edmund interrupted. "Bloody Calormenes can't even put their own clothes on by themselves. They'll think they're worthless without their slaves. Of course, that wouldn't be far from the truth."

"Perhaps one of us should intervene." Lucy said, her voice barely above a whisper. Peter never ceased to find himself in awe of his little sister. She could suggest the boldest of ideas without so much as batting an eyelid.

"And how would we do that?" Susan asked.

"Well," the youngest Pevensie began. "We all know that Agatone is not experienced in this whole 'ruling a kingdom' thing. He might not even know what he's proposing."

"So one of us needs to go." The older sister said, beforebefore Lucy could finish her proposal.

A slight moment of silence passed between the four rulers, each sibling unsure of how to go about the whole situation, but all of them knowing that Lucy was right.

"I'll go." Edmund said, at last. "I'm the one who's supposed to handle negotiations and problems like this. I need to step up."

"Ed," Peter admired his brother's bravery - how could he not? - but... well, there was no denying what each of them knew. Edmund was in no mental shape to return to the place that had given him his scars. As hard as Edmund's exterior was, Peter could still see straight through it. Inside, his little brother was still just a scared boy - the same as he had been after escaping the cruelties of the White Witch. Though none of them knew what he had been through during that time, they all knew that it was bad, and it changed their brother into an entirely different person than he was before. Peter was tired of letting Edmund be hurt. He couldn't stand to let him walk into Calormen, knowing what it would do to his mind. No. Edmund had been through enough torture, already. "I'm not letting you go there."

Edmund scoffed. "And why not? We both know that I'm most capable."

"This isn't about what we can and cannot do. This is the safest way about it all."

"Safest? What is that supposed to mean? I can take care of myself just fine." Edmund argued, but Peter knew that he couldn't possibly _want_ to go.

"It's not a matter of if you can take care of yourself. I just... I can't let you go! I can't let you do it."

"I'm not _weak_ , Pete." Edmund defended. His voice held no sense of bitterness, but Peter could tell that his brother felt attacked. "It's just a place. It can't hurt me."

"Ed." Peter ground out from between his teeth. Susan's careful hand on his arm eased some of the frustration from his limbs. "Ed. You don't have to prove yourself to us. You know that." Edmund just cast his eyes to the floor. " _Everything_ I've seen you do over the past weeks has shown me that my little brother is the _strongest_ person on earth." When Edmund continued his reign of silence, Peter continued. "I know that a place can't hurt you. I know that you could hold it all in and act alright. But I'm not worried about the place. I'm worried about the memories that come with it. And, Ed," Edmund's eyes finally rose to meet Peter's. "Memories can cut deeper than knives, and they leave the most painful scars."

Edmund nodded slowly, then have a small half smile. "How did I ever keep sane without your stupid smart mouth?"

Lucy laughed while Susan and Peter chuckled.

"We're still debating whether you were truly _ever_ sane, Ed." Peter joked.

"I'll save you time by giving you the answer," Edmund elbowed him in the ribs, once more. " _No_."


	51. Mercy

**Not so much action in this, but it does tie up some loose ends. I think I'm finally heading toward the end of my story, so stick with me ;).**

 **What excited you about my story? Did you get to feeling stressed out at all? I know I did.**

Edmund glanced behind him. Finally satisfying himself in the fact that he'd managed ditch his assigned body guard, he continued his walk through the halls, bound for his personal quarters. The reality of the whole situation still had yet to sink in. It hadn't been long at all since his return, but everything seemed to have changed.

As the wave of his normal life crashed back over him, he seemed to get lost in the ocean that was is emotions. Edmund was constantly being tossed about and dragged down by them. Occasionally he found himself pulled down so far that he thought he might just drown. But anytime he got this far, his brother and sisters were always there to keep him afloat. He didn't know how he'd have faired without them. They were always there to lift his spirits and remind him just how real this all was. They gave him his sense of belonging when he felt rejected. They showed him their love when he felt like he was the only one who cared. They constantly reminded him of just how much he had been missed and mourned, even if they didn't mean to. Their care meant more to him than anything else ever had. His whole childhood had been spent in believing that his siblings despised him - that Peter desired nothing more than for him to disappear off the face of the earth. If he learned anything from this ordeal, and his captivity with the White Witch, it was just how much his family really loved him; not to mention how much he loved them back.

Lost in thought, Edmund turned another corner, passing by the guests' halls, hardly acknowledging the bustle of activity as the freed slaves worked to sort out their sleeping arrangement. Any instinct to guard himself was drowned by his racing mind, so he practically jumped out of his skin when a cold hand snaked itself around his wrist. Edmund pulled harshly out of the grasp and reached for his sword, but he never freed it from its sheath.

"No need for violence, boy." Said the voice of an old woman as she clenched and unclenched the hand that had startled him so.

Edmund just stared at her for a moment, trying to understand where he'd seen her before. Of course he had caught her staring at him in the throne room, but he had recognized her even there.

"S-sorry." Stammered at last. "You had me... worried."

The old woman closed her eyes and nodded her understanding. "I don't blame you, son. I understand more than you know."

The woman opened her eyes again and looked straight into Edmund's. Her aged hazel irises suddenly beamed with a deep ongoing pain that reflected that last bit of familiarity back at the young king. That hurt. That suffering. That sense of hopelessness took Edmund back to the Calormene camp, where he could see that same look on the faces of all the rest in the tent. He knew the look well - had even worn it himself - but when seeing it in this pair of eyes-

"I... _know_ you." He said after a long silence. "I remember you."

"Foolish boy. I never expected to see you again - especially not in a place like this." The old woman's words were not kind, but her voice held no bitterness, either. "I'm astonished at you. How did you ever survive it?"

Without entirely thinking, Edmund answered, "I didn't." At the look of confusion on her face he quickly continued. "I mean- it's a long story."

"I'm sure it must be. Considering your fine robes and all." The woman said, taking a quick look over his kingly garments.

"And none of it would have been possible without you." Edmund gave a quick nod toward her. "I never would have even left the tent."

"If I had known that you'd go and make yourself king, I might have freed you a half a second sooner." The woman was clearly not ready to ignore the change that had taken place in the young boy, though Edmund couldn't say he blamed her. Last she knew, she was freeing a foolish boy to march off to his death only to run into him weeks later, dressed in fine robes with a crown upon his head.

"I - uh - it's complicated."

The woman cocked an eyebrow. "I think I understand more than you know. We had all heard it that the Just King was dead. Looks like he was just taking some time away."

"Not willingly, I'm sure you know." Edmund sighed. "I owe you my life for giving it back to me. I could have you rewarded, if you like. I could give you one of the finest houses in the kingdom with whatever you desire."

"Oh, my boy." The woman smiled up at him and pat the side of his face, gently. "Your heart is kind, but the only reward I could possibly wish for is to be returned to my family. You've already given me my prize."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

"My King."

Peter rose his head at the voice of Oreius as the Centaur addressed him. He sighed, looking back down at the parchments in his hands. _Can't I ever get a break?_ "It had better be important." He sighed. "You know I don't like to be disturbed while I'm in my study."

Peter glanced up shortly enough to see Oreius bowing deeply - his hair dropping over his shoulders as he did so - before continuing. "I would not have come otherwise, Sire. There is someone come to see you."

Peter paused a moment to consider who it might be that would possibly desire to see him. He _was_ the king, after all. It could be just about _anybody._ Finally giving up on trying to guess, Peter dropped the documents he held onto the desk. "Show them in."

The great Centaur bowed once more before turning with a 'clip-clop' of his hooves and opening the study door. The figure that entered hadn't been any of those Peter had even _considered_ as a possible visitor.

"Zakai?"

The large minotaur gave a short bow, but his eyes would not meet his king's. "My Lord." He said.

Peter glanced over to Oreius to see his friend with one careful hand on the hilt of his sword, never once taking his eyes off of the guest. Turning back to Zakai, Peter addressed him. "Well, soldier, I hope you have a good reason for this interruption."

Zakai stood, nervously fidgeting with the leather straps across his breastplate. "I - uh - I'm here for... for mercy."

 _Mercy_. Now he understood why this soldier had come to him. But that didn't keep him from inquiring further. He needed to hear a confession. "Pardon?"

Zakai took a deep breath in. "I have come to beg your mercy on my behalf."

"I see." Peter nodded. "And what, exactly, are you begging mercy for?"

"I-" The minotaur's voice seemed to catch momentarily in his throat. "I have committed treason against my royal monarchs. I plotted against them with the traitor, which I shall not speak the name of for his actions are unspeakable." At Peter's understanding nod, Zakai continued, turning his eyes away once more. "I do not deserve your mercy, but I had heard that it was to be offered. Remove me from you're service. Cast me out of your kingdom. But please stay true to your promise and do not kill me."

Peter rose from his chair and approached the guard. From the corner of his eye, he could see Oreius tense and tighten his hold on the hilt of his sword. The High King shot his general a look to say 'I've got it sorted'. The Centaur relaxed a little, but he did not release his hold on the sword.

"Good Cousin," Peter said, turning his attention back to Zakai, who looked even more frightened than before, but still reluctantly met his blue eyed gaze. "I have never broken a vow to my people. I grant you the mercy so desperately beg for, and I will even allow you to remain in my guard - so long as we have no more problems."

The minotaur dropped to his knees before Peter nodding his head then shaking it in the confusion of his emotions. "Oh, thank you, My King! Thank you!"

"You understand, though. I shall not allow you to hold any sort of higher rank, and if you are suspected of being caught up in anything like this again, I will not hesitate to have you removed, or worse." Peter's eyes hardened at the 'or worse' part of his response to indicate that he truly meant what he said. Zakai had betrayed his country, but he was also the only one who had yet to accept the mercy deal. If he had any sort of higher power in Narnia's military, Peter would not hesitate to demote him, but the minotaur was only in charge of the prisoners. After a close call like this, Zakai would have to be more careful to make sure no prisoners escape. His life would be on the line, which almost made him a better choice than any other guard would.

"Of course, Sire. I would not think of anything of the sort."


	52. A Different Kind Of Wound

**Sorry about the late publishing. I got a concussion last week, so it's been rough.**

 **I'm _really_ sorry if I seem a bit naggy about reviews. Reading reviews is really one of the big highlights of writing my stories. I look forward to it every day after I publish a new chapter, so it gets discouraging when my number of regular reviewers drops from four to one within a single chapter publishing. I am satisfied with two reviews, happy with three, and overjoyed with four. With one review, I am glad that somebody is still reading. Even if you are the only person that is still with me by this time, - though I'm sure I have more than just one consistent reader - I will still finish this story. We are coming close to the end now. Please be patient with me. I feel kind of sick of myself for dragging it out so long, but I had no other ideas on how to tie up all the loose ends.**

 **Please remind me if there is something I have forgotten to address. I don't mind a little help - especially if it helps to make my fic into the best version of itself.**

 **This is the first story that I've given reviewing assignments for. I thought it would be nice so that my regular reviewers wouldn't have to keep repeating the same things. Anyways, what separates my story from the other fics you've red? What stands out that makes you like it more or less than others?**

 _Umed scooped another shovel-full of horse muck and straw into the wheelbarrow. Three hours of stall labor in Calormen's blistering hot temperatures were sure doing their number on him. It wouldn't be long before he would pass out entirely from dehydration, or heat, or exhaustion - just about any or all of them would do him in if he didn't get a break, soon._

 _Fortunately for the dark haired boy, he'd learned a positive about working in the stalls. No Calormene wanted anything to do with the dirty horses and muck,_ or _the slave who cleaned them - at least not until both were clean enough to suit their liking. Since this was the case, however, Umed often found himself left alone and unsupervised while working in the stalls. He could take more breaks if he wished - that is, as long as he was never caught. He was sure to be careful that he only stole a few minutes rest, and a couple of refreshing swigs of water from the bucket outside the stalls before returning to work._ _And so he decided to take one of his quick breaks._

 _Dusting off his tunic and rubbing his blistered, calloused hands together, Umed walked to the stall door and, stopping just outside of it, bent down and cupped his hands in the water-filled bucket. It was unfortunate that the water was so warm, but it was still rather refreshing when compared to the distressing heat of the Calormene sun._

 _After taking a few drinks of water, Umed reached down once more to cup his hands in the bucket. This time he drew the water up and splashed it on his face, allowing it to drip down his neck and into his sweaty tunic. The liquid caught what little breeze there was and soaked it into his sunburned skin, causing him to sigh in comfortable relief._

 _"Papa!"_

 _Two little voices caught Umed's attention from a ways behind him; he turned to see two young boys - the taller, darker haired boy no older than ten years of age -_ _running into the arms of a man dressed in rags with no shoes, his long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail behind his head._

 _"My boys!" The man clutched both children close, placing a tender bearded kiss on each of their foreheads._ _"It's over. We can be free now."_

 _At the sight of a soldier closing in on the trio, Umed quickly ran back into the stalls. He picked up his shovel to continue his work, but was quickly distracted by the voices of those outside._

 _"What do you think you're doing?" Asked a harsh voice, which Umed guessed belonged to the soldier. "These boys belong to the Tisroc."_

 _Of course! He thought he'd seen the boys before, but the children slaves were kept apart from the rest. They were preserved for the more important jobs._

 _"I've come to take them with me." The voice of the father said._

 _Umed stalked over to the other side of the stalls and placed his left eye to one of the larger cracks. The father stood hunched over his sons, staring defiantly at the soldier who looked to take the boys from him._

 _"And how do you plan on doing that?" The Calormene said, clearly unamused with the lowly man before him._

 _"I can buy their freedom. I have the money. I've been saving up for this day for as long as I can remember."_

 _Umed couldn't help but notice that the soldier seemed a little caught off guard by the answer. Buying freedom was legal, but the price was placed so high that it would be next to impossible to gain. Not too mention that slaves were never granted the time or opportunity to earn money._

 _After the soldier had shook himself free of shock, he held out his hand. "Let me see it. All of it."_ _The father paused a moment, as if considering whether it was wise to hand over all his money to a Calormene soldier - Umed couldn't blame him. Finally, deciding that his sons' freedom was worth more than his mistrust, the father reached into the pocket of his tattered brown tunic. His hand returned a moment later holding a small weathered bag. He placed the bag into_ _the open hand of the Calormene, before turning to his sons and pulling them into a tight hug. He couldn't be sure because of the distance, but Umed thought he could even see a tear trickle down his cheek._

 _The whole scene took him back to when he'd last seen his own father. That last embrace in the arms of the only man he'd ever looked up to -until he learned to respect Peter, that is. Umed never expected to get past it. It was torture to wait every day, never knowing if that would be day that the letter would come to deliver the news of his father's death. It never came, though; at least not while he still lived in Finchley. He didn't even know if his father was alive today. If he was, what would he think of him? What he'd become?_

 _"You think_ this _can buy two boys? Maybe from some careless Tarkaan who doesn't know any better, but you are buying from the Tisroc!" The soldier threw the coins at the frightened family, and dropped the bag to the floor._ _The boys whimpered and huddled closer to their father. "This amount is good enough only for one boy. The Tisroc will not give both."_

 _Umed could see the anger in the father's figure; he'd seen Peter look very much the same, with his hot temper and all. The man stood protective over his sons, but he was careful to speak softly, "Sir, you_ cannot _expect me to take only one of my boys. I have worked many long years to build up even this much. I may die before I can afford to take the other. How can I ever leave knowing one of my children still lives in slavery?"_

 _Umed's stomach turned as he considered the situation. He knew for a fact that the boys weren't worth whatever the soldier was saying they were worth - at least not to the Tisroc. Children were never capable of many duties, and they never received enough nourishment to become the strong slaves that masters wanted. The family was the victim of the all too common acts of the unlawful Calormene military. The word of a soldier would win out the word of a lowly Archlander in any court case - in the unlikely event that they even bothered to hold one in the first place, that is_.

 _The soldier sneered at the man. "If you think it will be a problem, then just choose one of the boys. Once you have made your decision, I will see to it that the other is quickly killed. You and your_ living _son may move on knowing that there is no longer anything left for you in Calormen."_

 _At his icy words, the boys started to weep, clutching each other and allowing their father to push them protectively behind him. "I will not choose between them. Please, give me more time. I will double this amount - triple it even - if you let them both live. I'll return when I have the money to buy them both. Please."_

 _The soldier seemed to consider his words, but Umed knew that the decision was already made. The words that left those cruel lips only confirmed what he'd already believed. "The Tisroc is tired of your face. He would rather you not come back. Now choose one of the boys and give the other to me!"_

 _The father took a step back and bent down to his sons' level, holding one of them in each arm. "Please. No. Give me time. Please!"_

 _But the soldier did not comply. He summoned three more soldiers who seized the family, separating father from sons and brother from brother. The first soldier approached the younger boy, taking him harshly by the arm._

 _"No! Please!" The father screamed from his place between two of the other soldiers. "I'm begging you!"_

 _The main soldier gave him barely an unimpressed glance before turning to the child in his grasp. "Your father chooses to give you up and take your brother instead. How does it feel?"_

 _The little boy turned around with tears in his eyes to look at his father, restrained by the soldiers. "Papa?"_

 _"Amias, don't listen to the man. I love you more than you could ever know. I didn't choose this." The father's body shook with sobs as he struggled to speak. "I'm so sorry. love you, Amias."_

 _The little boy attempted to run to his father, but he was held too tightly by the soldier's tight grip. Umed wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He was entranced and yet sickened by the scene laid out before him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a glint of silver in the soldier's hand._ A knife.

 _No!_

 _The boy was not even paying attention to the soldier as he fought against the hand holding him. He looked squarely at his father, confused and frightened._

 _I love you, Amias." The father said again, clearly attempting to keep his youngest son's attention on himself, so as not to let the boy see the knife, but also saying a goodbye of sorts to him. It seemed so wrong to say goodbye from so far away. "I_ love _you, Amias. You are my treasure. You are my light. You are my life. Aslan hold you between his paws, until I take you in my arms again."_

 _Papa?" The boy whimpered. "I love you, Papa."_

 _Umed closed his eyes to avoid seeing the way the heartbreaking reunion would end. He couldn't bear to watch what would be sure to happen next. At the unearthly screams and shouts that followed, Umed knew exactly what had happened. He opened his eyes to see the younger boy lying limp on the ground, and the father and older son being forced away from the Tisroc's palace._

 _After a few moments passed, the group had fully dispersed, leaving the body of the young boy alone where he fell._

Alone.

 _No one should have to die alone - especially a child. An innocent child whose life already carried much more grief than it should have had to._

 _After he'd deemed the coast clear, Umed crept out of the stalls and made his way over the dark haired boy who, up close, reminded him a lot of himself. Blood seeped from an open wound in the boy's abdomen. Bile rose in the back of Umed's throat, and he was about to turn away in disgust when something caught his attention. A little hiccup passed the child's lips as his head lolled a little closer to the ground._

 _Umed was immediately on his knees, tearing a piece of his tunic and applying pressure to the wound. The boy whimpered in pain - a good sign meaning that he was not yet as close to death as Umed had first thought._

 _"Hang in there." He said, not exactly expecting an answer._

 _"Papa?" A little voice wheezed._

 _It broke Umed's heart to have tell him otherwise. The boy was clearly close to his father. "No. No, not Papa."_

 _"No?" The boy's dark eyes never met his own, but he kept on speaking. "Anto, is that you? Where's Papa?"_

 _"Not Anto, either." Umed said, applying more pressure to the wound. "Your father and brother are safe."_

 _The child winced before speaking again. "Who are you?"_

 _Umed hesitated. Who was he? He wasn't entirely sure he knew anymore, so he gave the only identity he'd known since entering Calormen. "Umed. I am Umed."_

 _The boy seemed to relax at the answer, though Umed couldn't understand why. "You are hope?"_

'You are my hope, Umed.'

 _Zebah had said those words to him. And here they were, back to haunt him._

 _"Yes, I am hope."_

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Edmund woke in a cold sweat. Sitting up in bed, he ran his hands over his face and drove them up through his dark hair. Dreams were never kind to him anymore. Every night one old memory returned to haunt him; always either of himself being tormented, or others. Of course, he knew that the ones of others were always the worst; they left a different kind of wound than the others. While old cuts and lashes would heal and scar over with time, these memories left the deepest wounds that would take much longer to heal. But they never healed completely. No. He would carry these memories for the rest of his life.

"My Child." The deep voice drew Edmund out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to the corner of the room, where he heard it comes from.

"Aslan."


	53. Sweet Dreams

**Hey guys! I think this story is almost over now. Have I forgotten to add anything?**

 **This story has been so fun to do. It is, by far, my favorite one that I've ever written. No assignment this time; just give me your opinions, compliments, judgements, thoughts. Thank you guys for sticking with me through this. You've been so great!**

"Aslan?" Edmund blinked his eyes a couple times to clear the fog from his vision. When he could see clearly, he looked back to the corner of the room. Sure enough, a Large, Mighty Lion stood, watching with careful eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Aslan slowly approached the bed as Edmund threw the covers off his overly-warm body. "I come here almost every night, My Dear Edmund. You have nightmares often."

Edmund cast his eyes down to the intricately designed bed covers. "Every night, it seems. They won't stop."

The Great Lion sighed, blowing warm air in Edmund's direction, reminding him of how close Aslan was to him. It brought a sense of comfort to the young boy. "Tell me about it, Child. Things like this were never meant to be kept inside. It will only hurt you more."

Aslan sat down on the floor beside the bed, as Edmund moved to the edge of the bed, slinging his bare feet over the edge. "They're all so terrible. Each dream is a nightmare that I actually lived. And now, I have to relive them again. Every night I'm forced to watch the horrors that I encountered in Calormen. Every night I am hurt again, or have to watch someone else be hurt while I'm helpless to do anything for them. Do you know what that's like?"

Edmund met the Massive Lion's kind eyes, and was surprised to see a sense of understanding that was non-existent in the eyes of any other. "I understand it more than you know."

"The others don't." Edmund pulled his knees up the his chest and rested his chin on top of them. "They've never _seen_ what I have, much less experienced it. I appreciate them trying to comfort and support me, but they have no idea what I'm going through. I almost feel like it separates us. It creates a sort of rift between us that they don't even see."

"And is that why you are so keen on having a coronation? You believe that it will bring you closer to your siblings?"

Edmund hesitated a moment. _Was it?_ He wasn't even sure he could say so himself. "I... I-" He couldn't even find the words to speak. Though, if he could, what would he say?

"You say it as though you need it." The Great Lion said, tenderly. "You behave as though this coronation will change things."

Having nothing else to say - nothing else that would make sense to say, Edmund replied with, "Won't it?"

Edmund couldn't help but catch the sense of sadness that flickered momentarily in Aslan's eyes. _Sadness, not disappointment_. "You speak as though you think you are someone else - like you stopped being Edmund Pevensie. I thought we had cleared this up."

Edmund nodded slowly. "I am Edmund Pevensie. I know that now. But..." He gave a deep sigh, lowering his gaze, once more. "There was a time when I didn't believe it. I... _stopped_ being Edmund Pevensie for a while. I lied to him and locked him away. When you finally helped me to set him free, he was hesitant to come out. I had to force him out of the cage that I forced him into. He'd grown so used to the dark that he thought it was his home. An- and now...-" Edmund bit his lip and swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

"And now you wonder whether he still misses his old 'home'. You wonder if he'll ever really let it go, or if Edmund Pevensie is truly lost." Aslan's voice was calm and relaxing. It drew Edmund out of his shell, prompting him to go on. But as tears stung his eyes, he found that he had no voice. All he could do was nod. Nobody had ever spoken with so much understanding before. Aslan _knew_ what had happened - He knew what Edmund needed to hear. "You've been through a lot, My Son. With time, you will see yourself becoming more of who you were. What happened will remain with you for the rest of your life, but it will only conquer you if you let it."

Edmund let his legs dangle back to the floor. "I just... I don't know how to get over it. I've tried and I've tried, but I can't _let_ myself get over it. I- I watched that family be torn apart while standing and minding my own business. Edmund wouldn't have done that. He would have never been able to stay away while someone else is suffering."

"That boy, Amias, survived because of you. He's living a happy life with his family because you weren't able to stay away while someone else was suffering." When Edmund only stared forward, gazing into nothingness, Aslan continued. "I'm not asking you to get over it; you never could on your own. I'm asking you to let me in. Let me help you get past this. Let me carry your load, because you aren't strong enough to do it on your own."

Edmund met the kind eyes of the Great Lion and smiled. "I can't ask you to carry something like this. You've already done so much."

"Then don't ask. Just let me take over." Edmund nodded and leaned back in bed, scooting himself to the center and pulling the covers back over his body. "Sleep now, Child. I will watch over you."

Edmund pulled his pillow up to his face and closed his eyes, Aslan's face being the last thing he saw before sinking into a deep sleep filled with pleasant dreams and the sweetest of memories.


	54. Catching Up

"You know, Edmund," Lucy smiled as she finished swallowing another bite of her breakfast, reflecting the glint in her eyes that had been so long absent during Edmund's captivity. Peter hadn't quite realized how much he'd missed it until now. "We never really got to talk about what happened here while you were away."

Peter watched contentedly from his seat as Edmund momentarily glanced up from his meal to meet his sister's gaze. It wasn't long, though, before he was engrossed in his food, once more, pausing in between chewing to respond. "I guess you're right, Lu." Was all that he said.

Lucy's brow knit and she set down her fork. "Well, aren't you curious? I mean, you were gone for _months_."

"I suppose I just really hadn't thought about it." Edmund said, only meeting Lucy's eyes as he began speaking again. "Just relieved you guys managed not to burn down the Cair without me there to babysit you."

A smile crept onto the boy's face as he said it. Peter could see that his brother was taking great pleasure in bringing out Lucy's _other_ side. The side that doesn't take quite too kindly to teasing. She shaped her mouth into and "o" and was about to go into a rant, when Peter decided it would be wise to intervene. "Ed, now that Judas is dead, the only person you should be worried about burning down Cair Paravel is your own reckless self."

Susan have him a small amused smile while Edmund pouted in his chair. Lucy laughed good and hard, but was able to suppress it and bring the conversation back around, still inserting little giggles into her speech. "I just... think it would be... a ripe conversation starter."

Edmund set his silverware aside and looked directly into Lucy's eyes, giving her his undivided attention. "Alright, Lu. What happened while I was... away."

The youngest Pevensie smiled at her success and quickly began to recite every bit of what went on during Edmund's absence - of course leaving out some details so as not to bring this new conversation to it's grim realities. Lucy talked of how kind Archland had been and how willing King Lune was when he learned of their situation. She talked of her own little adventures of hanging out with the Beavers or playing with Mr. Tumnus. She mentioned her rides with Philip and how lucky Edmund was to have such a loyal companion as he.

All in all there wasn't much to talk about before the arrival of Judas. Even then, Lucy and Susan had no real clue as to what they had missed, themselves. Lucy got to talking about the Calormenes visit and Peter began to space out. Though not really engaged in the conversation, he still heard enough to bring back memories of those three wretched days. Lucy spoke of Judas entering the city. The talk in the throne room. The Calormenes about the palace. Something about Prince Agatone that Peter had not heard before. Then it got interesting.

"Did you know Peter got poisoned?" Lucy asked, barely inserting emotion into her voice. She sounded more matter-of-fact than anything.

Peter flicked his eyes to his little brother, finding the same memories in those brown orbs as he knew were in his own blue ones. But what Peter saw as remembrance, Lucy must have seen as shock or concern -maybe both? Whatever she saw there, it made her continue on.

"Well he was." She gabbed, but as she opened her mouth to speak again, Susan interrupted.

"Almost twice, don't forget." She said, raising her goblet to her mouth to take a sip of milk. "Thank goodness not." She sighed as she set her goblet back upon the hard wood of the table.

Lucy's eyes lit up, as if she remembered one very exciting detail she forgot to mention. Which was likely the case. "There was that boy! Remember, Peter? The one who saved your life!"

What a bad time to bring it up. Surely the memory was as damaging for Edmund - if not more so than it was for Peter. The torture of seeing what was so _close_ and yet knowing how far away it truly was. Oh how glad he was that they'd spared the girls that pain. Although carrying it alone was much harder, he'd do anything to save his his sisters from enduring that horror.

Peter was about to object - suggest that they change the subject - but he caught sight of his brother. Edmund had one balled fist pressed against his mouth, as if pondering hard on Lucy's words, but Peter could see the smirk that was hidden underneath. Edmund wasn't pondering painful memories like Peter had been, he was enjoying this. Edmund was reveling in the inside knowledge he possessed, and Peter would not ruin it for him.

"O-of course I remember him." He said, finally answering the question and meeting Lucy's curious gaze. "How could I forget?"

Lucy smiled. "He must have been a guardian sent by Aslan or something. It was so surreal. What kind of person does that?"

Peter met his brother's eyes. "Only one truly amazing person."

Edmund smiled and have a curt nod that seemed to go unnoticed by the two girls.

"At first we thought he was behind it." Susan said, finally setting her own fork down. "He was arrested when Peter fell ill."

"Yeah!" Lucy exclaimed. "And Susan went to visit him. Interrogate him, so to say."

"I feel so bad." Susan sighed, bringing her hands up to her face. "I treated him so coldly and all he ever did was save my brother's life. I wish I could have thanked him, but I don't even know what he looked like. He could be in the kingdom now and I would never know it." She shook her head and her her hands drop back to get sides. "I asked him to remove his hood, but he just said 'It's-'"

"'Disrespectful to my masters.'" Edmund finished for her. Susan's brow furrowed and her stare grew intense.

"Those exact words. How did you-"

"Know?" Edmund shrugged and smiled, looking back to Peter.

"Su," Peter chuckled. "You've tortured your mind with wondering if you were passing this mysterious guardian angel in the hallways as you walk by, but you never even stopped to consider that you may be dining with him."

Susan's mouth dropped open. "What are you saying?"

Edmund spoke again, saying words that Peter knew must hit deep with Susan, even if they didn't entirely strike _him_ as making sense. "I defied my masters and risked my life."

"Y-you... _you_ are the- the." Susan fumbled, searching for words in her shocked state. Lucy's face, too, did not mask the amazement she was feeling.

"I am the slave boy." Edmund nodded. "Or at least I _was_."

"And you didn't tell us?" Lucy asked, hurt almost evident in her voice.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, keeping that from you. And that's no simple statement."

Susan's eyes snapped to Peter. "And _you_ knew? You didn't say anything!"

Peter could only shrug, unable to come up with an explanation that wouldn't send his sister into a full on rant.

"It was my idea." Edmund said. "I wanted only to spare you."

Susan shook her head, her voice lowering almost to a whisper. "I can't believe I was speaking to my dead brother."

"Hey," Edmund laughed. "Not so dead, am I?"

Lucy giggled. "And I thought _we_ were the ones catching _you_ up to date."

 **If you don't quite understand Edmund's references, look back at** **chapter 14, Bars in Between. It is the chapter on Susan and Umed's talk in the dungeon.**

 **Reviews are much appreciated! You guys have been so great!**


	55. Between His Paws

**Sorry it took so long to get this out. My job just started up again and I've been busy.**

 **I've decided to make this the final chapter of my story. It's been a crazy 7 months! 7 MONTHS!!! I'm so honored to have spent them with you guys, creating my greatest story yet. You've been so great and all of you have helped me in making this story better. How about one last review from you guys? Even those who haven't gotten the chance to review yet. I've loved this whole experience and hope you have too. Thank you for your time. Keep finding inspiration - TheRavenAndBear**

Finally over.

This nightmare. This... terrifying reality that never should have taken place. This battle. It was over. Edmund reveled in the feeling of finally being able to say it with confidence.

"It's over." He mumbled to himself; though, being alone in his room, nobody would hear him. His eyes focused on nothing in particular in the ceiling as he laid himself back on his bed, feet still dangling to the floor. "Really over."

Everything was just getting back to normal. He no longer just _lived_ like Edmund, he _felt_ like Edmund. He finally _was_ Edmund again - the old Edmund. While still plagued by the trauma and horrors of his life, he learned to push on - make himself be normal until it felt right. He would never get by if he let himself drown in events of the past year - the memories alone would swallow him whole.

No.

He wanted to feel the happiness he had _before_ all of it. He wanted to go back to the times when he and his siblings were free to do whatever. When they could laugh at anything, hold smiles in their eyes when their cheeks hurt after too many jokes were shared, and most of all, love each other without the fear of losing each other. That's what Edmund had missed most. It seemed that since he'd returned, broken smiles replaced the laughs. Scarred eyes took the place of reflected glee. Immense terror of the future broke through their reckless sibling bond, making it difficult to even leave each other's presence in fear of what may happen while apart.

It was all just beginning to mend. These wounds would heal with time. Perhaps scars would remain, but their stings would be blunted and would fade to barely a forethought in a few months. The worst was by them. The healing had already begun. Only clear skies lay visible ahead. They would come through, just like they always do.

Edmund's thoughts were interrupted by a slight rap on wood, followed by the familiar sound of his own bedroom door being opened. A slight creak sounded and footsteps approached the bed. He didn't need to look to see who it was. Only one person would dare enter without invitation.

"Enjoying yourself there?" Peter asked, taking a seat next to Edmund on the edge of the bed. "You know, there's better things to do than sitting around staring at your own ceiling."

Edmund sat back up, but continued to stare forward. "I know. I just need a break sometimes. A few minutes to take it all in. Convince myself that this is really happening."

Out of the corner if his eye Edmund could see Peter's head slowly nodding. "I get what you mean. Even had to do it myself a few times."

The two brothers fell into a silence after that. Only it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Just being in each other's presence was enough anymore. There was a time when Edmund had to be _coaxed_ into being in the same room as his older brother. Now... it just happened. They would seek each other out just for the sake of being close. Edmund couldn't imagine it being any other way.

"Oreius came today." Peter said, finally ending the reign of silence. "He brought some news I thought might lift you spirits."

This piqued Edmund's interest. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and he turned his head to meet Peter's gaze.

Peter smiled and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I - uh - may have - um - a bit of a surprise for you." Edmund stared on with eager anticipation until his brother continued. "Your friend, the one that helped you - Zebah, I think. I had his body removed from the grave." He'd said the word 'the' as if he feared saying the word 'your' instead.

"What?" Edmund exclaimed. "What kind of surprise is that?"

"Just wait, Ed." Peter smiled again. "You didn't let me finish."

Edmund just stared on with an expecting face, ushering Peter to continue.

"Well," His brother began. "I... sent Oreius on a mission. He was thorough and came up with results. He came to me and explained to me what he found."

When Peter seemed to have stopped talking, Edmund chimed in. "I wish you would just get to the point. Why does any of this relate?"

Peter cleared his throat. "He found them."

Edmund inwardly groaned. "Found _who_?"

Peter shook his head as if trying to clear his mind and direct his attention back to Edmund. "Right, um. I told Oreius about your time with Zebah and about what the boy said. It wasn't much to go off of so I didn't figure I should give you false hope by telling you what we were doing." Peter grinned, but Edmund only returned it with a look of confusion. "I guess, long story short, Oreius found them. He found Zebah's family."

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

Edmund's face contorted through various expressions of emotion - Peter could only imagine what he must be feeling. But in the end his brother maintained a clear expression of joy mixed with amazement.

"How... when-" Edmund stammered, struggling to find words to speak.

"It doesn't matter, Ed." Peter's smile stayed plastered to his face. He hadn't seen his little brother this excited since - well, since he couldn't remember. Sure, it had been exciting during their reunion in the tent, but Edmund had never really _seemed_ excited - more happy than anything. "I could spend all night explaining to you all our trial and error, or you can take it as the victory that it is."

Edmund's lips turned up in a grin. He broke eye contact and slowly shook his head. "I can hardly believe it. He's really going _home_."

The two fell into another short silence. Peter stared after his brother, noticing how his grin slowly fell into a grimace. He shook his head slowly this time.

"What is it?" Peter inquired, scooting an inch or so over to close what little gap the brothers had between them.

"Just thinking about how things might have been different." Edmund said, his eyes seeming to glaze over in thoughtful contemplation.

"If what, Ed?"

Edmund shook his head again. "If it really _had_ been my body that was brought back."

Peter wrinkled his face in distaste. It hadn't been all of an unexpected remark, it just surprised him that Edmund would bring it up when things seemed to be going so well. "Ed, I know _exactly_ how things would have gone, how they _did_ go when we thought it _was_ your body. It was something I could never wish upon _anyone_. If you could have seen it-" Peter shook his own head now, unable to finish his last sentence.

"But, Pete, Zebah might have gone home. He might've seen his family again. He could've been-"

"Stop it, Ed." Pete placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, drawing Edmund's gaze to his own only to see those brown eyes rimmed with tears. "He would be in the hands of some merciless Tarkaan, if not Judas himself. He would be miserable and hurting, longing to see a family that he is sentenced never to touch again. It wouldn't be a life worth living." He paused, collecting himself for his next words. "If not for his sacrifice, you wouldn't be here, Judas would be alive, all those people would still be enslaved. Narnia might not even be here if you hadn't gone back. Zebah believed that you had part in bigger plan, that you both did. He was right. Zebah is right where he always wanted to be, Ed. He's home. Could you take that from him?"

A small, tender smile crept onto Edmund's features. He shook his head. "I could never."

The two stayed in a longer silence this time, both lost in their own set of thoughts. Thinking about what was past or what was to come. It didn't matter which it was that came to mind. Both were eventually led to the same conclusion.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Edmund said after a few long moments of silence.

"What is?" Peter asked, though he had a feeling he knew what his brother was going to say.

"We go through all this pain, all these seemingly senseless trials, we can't see what it's all for. There were times when I thought it would be easiest to curse Aslan and be done with Him. I wanted it to be over. I blamed Him for it all. I thought He was punishing me for my past sins, even though He said I was forgiven." Edmund scoffed - at his own foolishness, Peter guessed. "Aslan knew exactly what He was doing, and He never abandoned me, even when I didn't want Him anymore."

"That's what sets Him apart. That's what makes Him the Great Lion. No matter our failures, He will accept us nonetheless. And if He is for us, then who can be against us?"

Edmund scooted back in his bed, pulling the covers up over his body. "I feel as though I've heard that some place before." He said.

"Perhaps," Peter smiled. "The more I say it the more it comforts me. Things are just now getting back to normal, and it scares me to think that I could lose it all. But the more I remind myself that He is in control, the more easily I sleep at night."

He opened his mouth to continue, but upon looking back at Edmund, he found that he was fast asleep. The sleeping form of his brother rested so peacefully, more peacefully than he had in a long time.

Peter smiled. Yes. Things would be okay. Broken parts would be mended. Tattered pieces would be patched. Blunted points would be sharpened. Dying lights would burn ever brighter. Hearts would dwell together for as long as Aslan saw fit. And they would all rest peacefully between the paws of the Great Lion.


End file.
